Mirror, Mirror
by sienna27
Summary: Late season 3, Emily becomes pregnant by one of her deadbeat boyfriends. She and Hotch bond. Eventual H/P. Stand alone story, not part of the Girl'verse.
1. Single Mama, Drama

**Author's Note:** Stand alone story. NOT part of the Girl'verse. This is actually my first multi-chapter relationship story (I don't think Snake Pit counts) that exists completely separate from the larger world I've created. It was a little weird writing it because I have Girl'canon in my head. But I was trying to throw that aside. So if you are a regular reader, you should too.

I know I have no business putting up yet another story, but let's face, I'm not going to be done with any of the big ones for months so what difference does one more make? And I wrote this first draft back in the winter. Before I put up Second Chances, THIS was the original idea I had to get Emily pregnant. But then events transpired in Girl that made me go the other route. But I had expended some energy on this different angle and I hated to toss it so I asked Kavi and Arc both if they thought it was unique enough that it had promise as a different baby story. So with their blessing, I decided to pursue it further.

In _this_ world, Emily has become pregnant by one of her loser ex-boyfriends at a point after Hotch is divorced. She and Hotch are not involved, but they do have a warm relationship. So come at this one basically from canon, but you know with my spin on them.

The title, I'll explain at the end.

* * *

_March 2008_

**Single Mama, Drama**

Emily froze at the top of the stairs.

And though she needed to keep moving, her eyes instead stayed locked on Hotch's closed office door for almost a minute. A wave of tension and anxiety was washing over her.

Drowning her.

But then she realized that people were starting to look . . . Derek and Spencer included . . . that she was making a spectacle of her self. She shook her head in disgust.

_Just DO it you big coward!_

This was the third time that day that she'd made this walk from her desk to his door, and she had SWORN to herself as she stood up, that _this_ time she was going inside.

Okay . . . her jaw twitched . . . granted last time she'd said that too, but THIS time she'd really meant it damn it! And after another thirty seconds of mustering her courage, she took a deep breath and gave the door two quick raps before she lost her nerve again.

Finally . . . she slowly exhaled . . she did it!

And hearing a muffled, "come in," she took another breath as she turned the knob and pushed open the door. Then she hesitantly poked her head around the corner.

"You have a minute sir?" She asked while inching a few cautious steps through the doorway.

Hotch was standing behind his desk, hurriedly pulling together the reports that he needed for his meeting with Strauss. And as Emily stepped inside his office, he paused to look over at her with a pained expression.

"I actually have a meeting with the section chief. Could it wait until I get back?"

At his response . . . it hadn't occurred to her that he might actually be _busy_ . . . Emily's face immediately fell in disappointment.

"Uh . . . yeah," she stammered, "sure."

God . . . she bit her lip . . . she was going to have to psych herself up AGAIN! And it had taken her two full days just to get this far into his office!

As Hotch saw the obvious disappointment on Emily's face, his brow pinched.

_Huh, it must be pretty important. And the meeting didn't really start for another ten minutes._

He bit the inside of his cheek.

"Well, I suppose I have a couple minutes," he checked his watch, "but I really do have to run in five," then his eyebrow inched up as he looked back over at her, "is that enough time? Do you want to talk now?"

"Please," Emily nodded enthusiastically as she slipped the rest of the way into his office, "yes," she shut the door behind her, "I just need to . . . yes."

Oh thank God! She didn't have to come back!

Of course now that she was standing there . . . and he was looking at her . . . she had no idea how to actually start the conversation. All of her prep work thus far had involved psyching herself up to knock on the door. And given how poorly THAT had been going, she hadn't planned beyond that to get to Step 2.

Actually saying words aloud.

But now she could see that Hotch was beginning to stare expectantly at her. The eyebrow was sliding further up to his hairline. And why wouldn't it be? Generally when people ask if they can talk to you and you say, "yes" then conversation subsequently follows.

But yet STILL, she was staring at him like a deer in headlights.

GAH . . . she screamed in her head . . . SAY SOMETHING!

Hotch was starting to become very confused by what was happening . . . or more specifically what _wasn't_ happening . . . at that moment. Emily clearly hadn't wanted to put off speaking with him, but now she wasn't saying anything. And she seemed nervous.

His brow furrowed . . . Emily was never nervous.

Oh God . . . his eyes widened slightly . . . he hoped that jackass down in media relations hadn't touched her! That idiot had a sexual harassment file as long as his arm, but for some reason they still hadn't gotten rid of him. And if he HAD touched her, and Emily had to tell him about it, that would definitely make her nervous.

It would also guarantee that Hotch was taking a fresh pair of testes as a trophy, God damn it!

And now that he'd gotten himself completely worked up over his utterly groundless speculation, Hotch ended up blurting out.

"This isn't about John Walsh is it?"

Startled at the unexpected outburst, Emily blinked as she looked over at Hotch in bewilderment.

"What? No," she shook her head, "not all. What makes you think that?"

She'd only met the guy once. And based on that one experience, once was enough.

With a shake of his head, Hotch tried to blow off his previous statement before he came off looking like a total idiot.

"Uh nothing, forget it," he took a breath to refocus, "so then Prentiss," his brow inched up slightly, "what _is_ on your mind?"

Apparently the direct approach was the only one that was going to work here.

As Emily stared at Hotch, a stream of thoughts went flying through her head.

_. . . That you're going to think less of me_

_. . . That you're going to cut me from the team_

_. . . That people are going to be talking behind my back_

_. . . That they don't make maternity clothes in black_

When the last thought popped into her mind, she finally just spit it out.

"I'm pregnant."

Hotch's jaw opened . . . and snapped shut.

Whoa!

He dropped back down in his chair. Though, he hadn't known what it was he'd THOUGHT that she'd wanted to talk about, he definitely had not been expecting her to say _that_. God, was she even dating anyone?

His brow furrowed as he tried to remember.

Oh right, that pretty boy from the DEA. Personally Hotch thought that he was kind of a douchebag. But as a rule Prentiss and JJ didn't ask him for his opinion on the men that they dated. Which was probably just as well, because he'd met a few of them over the years and he hadn't thought that any of them were good enough for his agents.

They all ranked on the sub-par scale.

And that was the point where he realized that he was ranking pretty sub-par on the scale himself. Because Emily had just told him that she was pregnant . . . she was clearly nervous as HELL about his reaction . . . and he's now left her hanging for a good fifteen seconds with absolutely no response beyond dropping into his chair.

Ass.

So he quickly plastered on a smile and inserted some upwards inflection to his voice.

"Congratulations!"

Emily nodded, but as she thought about the rest of the conversation that was to come, her smile was tinged with sadness as she responded softly.

"Thank you."

At least aside from a slight bit of shock . . . which she was expecting . . . she was relieved that part went well enough. But that wasn't the reason that it had taken her two days to get up here.

Seeing the look on Emily's face, Hotch immediately sobered as he tipped his head.

"I'm sorry," he asked with concern, "is this _not_ good news?"

He supposed that it was possible. Though it did seem really, _really_ unlikely that she'd come in here and tell him that she was pregnant, if she wasn't planning on keeping the baby. They were work friends, not personal friends.

And work friends . . . as a rule . . . did _not_ share information like that.

That was definitely true. But then another thought occurred to him . . . he was her boss, and if she needed the time off to have the procedure, then she might actually share that kind of information.

But then why wouldn't she just take personal leave? Realizing then that he was going off on a ridiculous tangent, Hotch rolled his eyes to himself.

_Jesus Christ Aaron, stop speculating and give the woman time to answer you!_

So opting to ignore the little voice in his head that was telling him that it was time to go to his meeting, Hotch instead gestured towards his visitor's chair.

"Why don't you take a seat?"

Yes, Strauss was going to be pissed, but this was important too.

Emily looked over at Hotch nervously for a second, before she crossed over and sat down. Now that she'd gotten the biggest part out, she figured that she might as well just tell him the rest of it and then hope for the best.

So as she leaned forward slightly in the chair, and rubbed her hands together nervously.

"Um," she started slow, "it's not actually bad news. It's kind of mixed news. I am happy about the baby," she patted her stomach protectively, "I'm keeping it, but the situation, well . . ." she sighed, "I'm sorry to have to burden you with my personal problems Hotch, but I wanted you to hear this from me directly and not the rumor mill."

After pausing to make sure that she had his complete attention, she added pointedly.

"Your opinion is very important to me."

"Prentiss," Hotch blinked in surprise, "I hope you know by now that I hold you in the highest esteem. You've more than earned my respect over the last eighteen months. So I can assure you that no," he scowled disdainfully, "_rumor_, would ever do anything to change my opinion of you."

Feeling her eyes sting at his praise, Emily whispered back.

"Thank you sir."

Still not quite understanding what the problem was . . . why would she be worried about rumors . . . Hotch's brow wrinkled as he leaned forward slightly.

"Prentiss, is this because you're single? Because you're certainly not the first unmarried woman at the Bureau who became pregnant. And there's certainly no . . ." he huffed, "_shame_ in it. And I really would be surprised if anyone was still so narrow minded as to make a derogatory comment." Then his expression darkened, "but if anyone does make a comment, then you tell me and I'll take care of it."

A shadow of a smile passed Emily's lips as Hotch's words of support . . . he had always been very protective of them.

"Thanks sir, but that's not what I was referring to." Their gazes locked for a moment before Emily closed her eyes. "God," she muttered, "this is so embarrassing."

And then with a sigh she looked back up at him again.

"Okay," she took a breath, "for the past two months I've been dating this guy, Chris. I think you met him once or twice."

Seeing Hotch nod, Emily took a breath, making sure to keep her eyes directly on his as she said the next part.

"Last week I found out that he's married."

The second the words left her mouth, Emily's gaze dropped to the carpet.

Though she'd thought she wanted to see his reaction . . . to the see the truth of it . . . in that moment she realized she wasn't ready for it. Because she couldn't bear to see the disappointment that she was sure was going flitter across his features.

She was ashamed of herself . . . so how could he not be disappointed in her?

After all she got knocked up by another woman's husband. That was so Jerry Springer. And SO not the way that she'd ever planned to start a family. Her eyes began to sting.

She really had made quite the mess of things.

Hotch blinked in surprise at Emily's announcement, and then a second later a flash of white hot anger hit him.

THAT FUCKING ASSHOLE! How could he DO that to her?

Hotch's jaw clenched . . . he was a dead man.

As she started picking at an imaginary string on her shirt Emily continued, "I broke up with him and then I missed my . . ."

And she stopped, realizing that she'd already shared enough personal information with Hotch for one lifetime. No reason to discuss her cycle with him as well. So she shook her head as she finished softly.

"Uh, anyway, I found out I was pregnant four days later."

Trying to calm his raging temper, Hotch instead focused in on the body language going on in front of him. Emily had broken eye contact as soon as she'd told him the news about the father . . . and she hadn't looked up since.

His expression softened . . . she thought that he would think badly of her. That he would think that she'd done something wrong.

Oh, Emily.

He pushed his chair back and stood up. Then he circled around his desk to crouch down in front of her.

She still wouldn't look at him.

He sighed.

"Prent . . . Emily, this isn't your fault. And I certainly am not angry, disappointed or anything else I'm guessing that you think I am right now," he paused, "okay, I'm angry, but certainly not at you. I'm angry with him. He's the one that deserves condemnation. You trusted someone and he took advantage of that trust. You didn't do anything wrong."

Emily slowly lifted her gaze to his, looking at him warily.

"Really, you don't think that I'm a terrible person?" Then her eyes became moist and she dropped them back to her lap as she whispered, "because I feel like a terrible person."

Feeling his teeth sink into his lip, Hotch stared up at her for a moment.

The poor thing. It would figure, she does absolutely NOTHING wrong and _she_ feels guilty. And this jackass cheats on his wife, screws Emily over, leaves her with a baby to raise by herself and HE'S probably already sleeping in some other woman's bed!

Hotch's jaw twitched . . . but he'd deal with him later. Emily was what was important right now.

He reached over and picked up her hand.

"Prentiss," he squeezed her fingers, "you're NOT a terrible person, and you need to stop thinking like that. This is on him, not you." He softened his tone as he tried to appeal to her protective instincts, "also, remember that stress is bad for the baby, so you need to make your peace with this and let it go."

She really didn't need to concern herself with the circumstances of conception any longer. Hotch had definitely decided that he was taking this guy's testicles. He'd already proven that he couldn't be trusted with them, so clearly he'd forfeited the right to have them.

And then . . . trying to think of something comforting to say . . . he added.

"And though I do understand how this situation might be slightly," he rolled his eyes, "_newsworthy_, I still don't think it's going to be that bad. It's nobody's business who the father is."

Emily raised her head to give Hotch a grim smile.

"His wife works here."

At Hotch's look of horror, she nodded.

"Yeah, THAT'S how I found out he was married. I was down in Forensics and I saw his picture on her desk. Needless to say, I was pretty shocked. So I asked around, discreetly, and that's how I found out. As much as it killed me I did tell him about the baby because I thought that he had a right to know. But I should have just saved my breath, because he doesn't want anything to do with it, and that was fine with me because I want him completely out of my life."

Then she shook her head wearily.

"I wouldn't be so worried if I just knew for sure that this was all going to stay private. But when we were going out _I _certainly wasn't keeping our relationship a secret. So I'm assuming that other people in the Bureau, outside the team, might know that we were dating. I just don't know if any of _those_ people know his wife," then she cringed, "I don't think he'd actually tell his wife DIRECTLY that he got another woman pregnant, but who knows," she rolled her eyes, "this is a man who decided to have an affair with a woman who not only works in the same agency, but also in the same BUILDING, as his spouse! Clearly, he's a moron."

If she'd randomly picked a name out of the phone book she probably couldn't have picked a WORSE father for her kid! But this might be her last chance . . . so despite the God awful situation . . . it still only took her about thirty seconds to decide that she was keeping the baby.

And she was just going to hope that Jackass stayed completely out of the picture.

Ordinarily she'd say that a child should know his/her father, even if he was a lousy one. But in this instance she was hoping that never happened. Chris not only didn't want the baby, he was pretty pissed off when she told him she was keeping it. Apparently, before he started cheating on his wife, it had never occurred to him that there was a possibility that one day a condom could break. So he had yelled at Emily, telling her that he wanted her to terminate, and she responded that she wanted him to have his testicles gnawed off by wild dogs, but that they were both going to have to learn to deal with life's little disappointments.

And the conversation unbelievably went _further_ downhill from there. It was a horrible scene. A semi-violent one actually. And barring one additional meeting down the road where she asked him to officially waive his parental rights, she hoped never to speak to him again.

Hotch's jaw opened and snapped shut again.

Okay, yeah she was right. If this got out it was going to be pretty bad.

He cleared his throat.

"Well, that's . . . something I was not expecting."

"Yeah," Emily snorted humorlessly, "you and me both sir." Then she paused for a second, "but I'm keeping the baby. And as you said, I need to stop feeling guilty about it if I want a healthy fetus, so I guess I'm just going to have to deal with all of this other crap,_ if_ it comes up."

Hopefully it wouldn't. She was praying that it wouldn't.

And though she knew at minimum the team would probably figure out the sperm donor, she still didn't plan on disclosing the details of the situation to them unless she absolutely had to. It was humiliating enough just having to tell Hotch. And she had told him about the baby first because she was a field agent, and he needed to know that she was pregnant.

But she'd decided to tell him _everything_ because she was most worried about what he'd think of her if the whole story did get out, and he heard it third hand. Not that she didn't care what the others thought of her as well.

Of course she did.

But . . . Hotch was her boss. Yeah, they were friends too. But they were work friends, so their predominant relationship was professional, not personal. And it had taken her so long to earn his respect and trust, to get them where they were now . . . which was a really good place . . . that she hadn't wanted this colossal screw-up on her part, to taint his feelings for her.

Which was why she had decided that it was better that he heard the whole ugly tale from her directly.

Not to mention, she also knew how much pride he took in the Unit's reputation. Everyone in the Bureau knew that he ran a solid shop. So she certainly didn't want him to get blindsided if . . . God forbid . . . this did blow up in her face.

She didn't want his reputation to take a hit as well.

"Okay Prentiss," Hotch said with a little smile as he squeezed her hand, "whatever you need, you have my full support."

Emily felt her eyes starting to burn.

"Thank you sir," she swallowed, "that means a lot. And um, I obviously would rather not tell anyone about the baby for the time being. Not even the team. I'd really like to keep this, uh, under wraps for as long as possible."

"Of course," Hotch nodded as he let go of her hand and stood up, "whatever you want." Then he raised a quizzical eyebrow, "though, what do you want to do about field work? If I pull you, the team's going to know that there's something going on."

There weren't any restrictions specifically saying that pregnant agents couldn't be in the field. That was provided they could still perform all of their regular duties. And Emily mostly likely would still be physically fit well into her second trimester. But on a more personal note, he'd really prefer to take her out well before that time.

It would be much too distracting worrying about her getting hurt.

Yeah," Emily nodded slowly, "I thought about that. Of course I don't want to risk the baby, so I'm going to discuss it with the doctor. And then provided it's okay with him, I'd like to stay in the field for the first trimester. Then I guess month four, you and I can revisit the issue." She shook her head in frustration, "I know that once I'm showing that's going to change how the team interacts with me, and that's going to be a distraction, and God knows I don't want that. So once I can't hide it anymore, then," she gave him a pointed nod, "whatever you think is best."

Hotch tipped his head.

"That sounds logical, but," he gave her an imploring look, "I would appreciate it if we could agree now that even in the first trimester, that if a situation arises, like a chemical spill, or a fire, something where it would be irresponsible to allow you onsite, that you would not fight me about leaving you behind." He exhaled, "I know that it's perfectly within your rights to keep working but, I can tell you now that it would be a distraction to _me_ if you were there."

"Agreed," Emily said as her eyes crinkled, "because you know, I'd personally also rather not have a baby that could headline its own tent at Barnum & Bailey's."

Hotch sighed, "I know, I just wanted to make sure that we were on the same page beforehand, so if the situation arises we don't have to discuss it."

Emily's expression softened as she stood up.

"Consider it discussed."

Now that she'd gotten all of this crap off of her chest, she felt a thousand times better than she had when she walked through his door. Which was . . . she cringed as she looked down her watch . . . fifteen minutes ago.

Crap.

Her nose wrinkled slightly as she looked back up at him.

"I'm sorry, but it looks like I have now officially made you late for your meeting with Strauss."

"It's okay," Hotch's lip quirked up slightly, "she has a three o'clock. So the later I get there, the less time we have to go over my inadequacies as a leader."

Emily's raised an amused eyebrow.

"Okay, well then I retract my apology, and if you'd like I can stay a little longer and we can discuss baby names and what color to paint the nursery."

Hotch's lips twitched, "thank you for your offer Prentiss, but I don't think that will be necessary."

She shrugged, "your call sir," then she started back towards the door, "and thanks again."

As Emily reached for the doorknob, Hotch's brow narrowed.

"Prentiss, wait."

When she looked back expectantly, "yeah," he walked back around his desk, and over to where she was standing.

He pulled her into a tight hug.

"Congratulations," he whispered in her ear, "really."

Emily was a little surprised at the unexpected display of affection from her boss . . . he wasn't usually much for personal displays on the clock . . . but she quickly recovered as her eyes crinkled and she slid her hand around to his back.

"Thanks Hotch."

Then he stepped back slightly, squeezing her shoulder as he flashed a dimple.

"I know I'm not generally much of a hugger, but I figure seeing as you aren't telling anyone else right now, I needed to step up."

Emily chuckled, and Hotch gave her an amused stare for a moment before his eyes softened.

"This is a really big deal Prentiss. Being a parent is going to change your life in ways that you can't even imagine," he smiled, "you're going to be a mom."

God . . . Emily's eyes started burning . . . now he was being really sweet. And the stupid hormones could not take a sweet Hotch right now. So, not trusting her voice, she just smiled and murmured, "mmm, hmm," as she tried to blink away the moisture in her eyes.

Hotch . . . seeing the tears attempting to pool, and remembering the hormonal fluctuations Haley went through with Jack . . . patted Emily's arm.

"I'm sorry," he said gently, " I'm not trying to make you cry. But if you want to talk more later, you know I'm always here."

Given how isolated she was going to be these first couple months, Hotch knew that he was going to have to step up beyond just giving her a proper congratulations.

She was going to need a friend.

And as he thought about that . . . about extending himself further into her life in a way that he hadn't before . . . he suddenly felt a little spark of genuine happiness at her news.

He dealt with so much death it would be nice to have a new life growing around him.

Emily smiled softly. "Thanks."

As much as she appreciated his offer . . . and she might just take him up on it . . . she really wished that he _wasn't_ always here. Hotch had kept long hours as long as she'd known him, they all did, but since his divorce, he had basically moved into the office.

She wouldn't be surprised if he had a sleeping bag under his desk.

Her gaze shifted back up, and they stared at each other for a second, each realizing that their relationship had just shifted a notch. And then the moment was broken as Hotch's phone started to ring.

He rolled his eyes and Emily chuckled.

"Do you want me to get it for you? I can say you left ten minutes ago, and then you can just tell her you got stuck in the elevator or something."

At this point in their relationship, a little white lie was the least that she could do for him.

Hotch looked at Emily for a second before he nodded.

"Yeah, actually maybe that would be best," he rolled his eyes again, "she's already pissed at me for being late to the last meeting."

What Strauss didn't understand was that nobody aimed to be _early_ to a gathering where you were told that you sucked. That was usually agenda item _one_, then they'd cover a couple of general topics related to the actual running of the FBI, and then they'd close on the 'you suck' point again. He scowled.

She really was a horrible woman.

Hotch and Emily both walked back over to his desk and Hotch hastily grabbed his stuff for the meeting, as Emily reached for the phone. Then he hurried back across the room, giving her a quick wave as he opened the door and ran out.

Emily's lips twitched as she watched him go, and then she lifted the receiver. She winced as she held it back from her ear.

Man, that woman could YELL!

And because Strauss was obviously under the impression that Hotch had answered the phone, she was tearing into him for his unprofessionalism as soon as the receiver was off the hook. First, for not showing up, and second, for not even having the courtesy to call to ask if he could reschedule. Emily rolled her eyes.

God, she sucked. Yeah, he really was only late because he was being nice to her, but what if he'd had a real emergency that held him up. Like a call on a case or something.

Not that it was ever okay to talk to somebody in this tone, but here Strauss doesn't even know the circumstances behind his delay and she's still ripping into him!

Emily shook her head as the dragon continued to roar . . . how did he put up with this crap all the time? Emily herself hadn't had to deal with Strauss directly since Milwaukee.

Hotch had fortunately provided a solid buffer between the two of them after that day.

Finally . . . after what Emily estimated to be a good minute into the call . . . Strauss took a breath, and Emily was finally able to get a word into the one side conversation.

"Uh, actually, _ma'am_, this is Agent Prentiss. Hotch left about ten minutes ago for a meeting," Emily's lip quirked up, "I'm presuming from your extended greeting, that meeting was with you."

Though Emily knew that she was pushing her luck mocking her, she didn't care. Seriously, after all that crap, the woman didn't have a leg to stand on!

She'd just behaved like a complete ass!

There was silence on the other end of the line. Then after two beats Emily heard a clipped, "oh," followed immediately after by a dial tone.

Irritated at Strauss' rudeness . . . and her shabby treatment of Hotch . . . Emily stared at the buzzing phone for a second before she muttered.

"Yeah, you're welcome," as she put it back into the cradle.

Okay . . . she tipped her head . . . well, on the plus side, maybe now that Strauss had already huffed and puffed, Hotch wouldn't catch quite as much flack when he ran in late.

And now that the call was done, and Hotch was gone, Emily no longer had any good reason to be in his office. But still she stood behind his desk for a moment.

It was weird seeing the world from this angle . . . his angle. Her gaze dropped down, traveling over the items on his desk.

_. . . case files, stacks and stacks of case files_

. . . pens from police stations around the country

. . . paper clips, he preferred the coated ones

. . . reports waiting to be reviewed

. . . sticky pads flipped back with names and phone numbers all over them

. . . official FBI coffee mug complete with official FBI coffee ring stains

Suddenly her gaze stopped roaming and she stared.

Jack.

Her eyes crinkled as she picked up the picture of her boss' son . . . God he was a cutie. And he looked just like his daddy, right down to the dimples.

Though Hotch's set were seen far too infrequently

Emily's finger slowly traced over the glass . . . she was going to have one of these. A mini-me. And thinking about, she felt a wave of panic rising up . . . how in the world was she going to do this by herself? The pregnancy and then the actual raising of the child. And for the first five or six months at least it was going to be _literally_ by herself.

She wouldn't have any support at all.

Nobody else was going to know.

Well . . . she stared at the picture in her hands . . . this little boy's daddy knew. But she really couldn't depend on Hotch to . . .

Emily's thoughts were cut off as she remembered the hug, and the offer to come back and talk. Then her expression softened as she gently placed the picture frame back on the desk.

Maybe she wouldn't be completely alone.

* * *

_A/N 2: So there you go. If you're reading Second Chances, as you can see the circumstances here, both of conception and fallout, are QUITE different. And the opportunities for angst and drama really go off into a completely different direction. Plus, we can get some angry over-protective Hotch worked in as well! That's always fun :) In terms of Emily's guilt over the baby, even though she didn't really do anything wrong, remember in canon, she is Catholic. And I can tell you, even if you're lapsed, the guilt is a living entity. So she has that working against her beyond just the simple mortification anyone would be feeling if the rug got pulled out from under them._

_And the reason I called it Mirror, Mirror is because I see this as a mirror world. Some of the events that take place in Second Chances will also take place here but they will unfold differently because their relationship is so different. Two that I've already written (in both stories) are Emily's first bout of morning sickness, and her first Lamaze class. And the reason I got it stuck in my head that this was a mirro, was because I had originally written those chapters for THESE circumstances, and when I changed the story and made them a couple over in Chances, I didn't want to toss what I had written here. Some of it was pretty decent – if I do say so myself :)_

_And the goal with this story is to have H/P together by the time the baby comes. As I already have them in full couplehood expecting a kid, I'm going to keep them apart in this one as long as I can. So again, I think there's enough that's completely unique about this angle that the stories won't be redundant._

_Also, JJ does not get pregnant here. And as you can see from Hotch's mention of their boyfriends, I'm not even sure if Will is going to make an appearance. _

_I'm not sure how often this will be updated but, just like the others, it'll keep rolling along :) I promise folks, eventually we'll get to the end of all of them. I just hope my hair isn't white by then. _


	2. A Crash Course in Polite Conversation

**Author's Note**: I'm on a roll with this story! I got like three more chapters cranked out. And in this one I finally was able to pick the balance I think I'm going for in their relationship. The first couple chapters are always hard because you're trying to set the tone. But I think we're there :)

* * *

_**Week 4**  
_

**A Crash Course in Polite Conversation**

In the middle of the morning briefing, Hotch glanced over to see Emily blinking repeatedly and rubbing her hand over her mouth to hide a yawn.

His brow wrinkled . . . she looked exhausted. And it was a bit too early in her pregnancy for her to be _that_ tired at 10:15 in the morning.

He was a little concerned.

But also he knew that this was the worst possible time for him to ask her if she was okay . . . the entire team was in the room . . . so he kept his mouth shut for the time being. Though that didn't stop him from shooting glances over to her throughout the rest of the meeting. And then he noticed that Rossi was doing the same thing.

Damn.

It was going to be hard to keep this pregnancy from him. He was definitely going to figure it out before the others did. For God's sake, the first day he'd started back to the BAU Dave had deduced that Hotch was separated!

Dave Rossi was a man from whom you could keep no secrets.

Hotch's brow wrinkled . . . maybe he could convince Emily to bring Dave into the loop too. Not now of course. The poor thing wasn't ready to have yet _another_ person knowing all of the intimate details of her personal life. He had seen how hard it was for her to come to him. But maybe in another month or so. Once she had adjusted to her new situation.

Even Dave wouldn't be able to figure out that quickly that she was pregnant.

Even so, Hotch still watched worriedly as Dave lingered for a moment after the meeting, stopping to ask Emily if she was feeling okay. The others were already on their way out then. Morgan and JJ were explaining to Reid about March Madness.

Which meant that fortunately none of them were paying any attention.

And as he pulled his files together, Hotch very studiously made a point of ignoring Dave and Emily. But out of the corner of his eye he could still her plastering on a bright smile, and then he heard her false cheer.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just had a leaky faucet that kept me up last night."

Dave's eyes crinkled slightly as he patted Emily on the shoulder.

"Okay, just making sure that you were all right," then he projected his voice slightly, "you should make Hotch buy you a cup of coffee."

Rossi was always looking for excuses to get the two of them to spend time together. Hotch had been divorced for going on four months now, and Emily had FINALLY broken up with that asshole she'd been dating since New Year's. So now that they were both unattached, Dave was playing matchmaker.

He thought that Hotch and Emily would make a good couple.

Actually he'd thought that since about his third day back in the BAU. But at the time, Hotch was still just separated and not yet divorced. And Dave clearly wasn't going to try and nudge them into doing anything then. On the off chance that Hotch had put his marriage back together, that would have been disastrous for not only the two of them . . . but the team as well.

But . . . as Dave had expected . . . Hotch's marriage had been beyond repair. And he'd never really cared for Haley, so, beyond his sympathy for Hotch's situation with his son, Dave hadn't been too sorry to see it fall apart.

Dave was sure that there was a girl out there better suited to somebody of Hotch's temperament. And he was pretty sure that girl was in the room. And he had seen Hotch eyeing Emily during the meeting. And then him pretending not to be listening to their conversation.

Like it takes anyone that long to pull together FOUR pieces of paper!

And his theory about Hotch's interest was confirmed, when the man himself shot a nasty glare in Dave's very specific direction. Dave's lip quirked up.

Gotcha.

After Hotch finished with his ocular equivalent of flipping off Dave, he softened his expression when he shifted his gaze to Emily.

"Actually Prentiss, I _was_ about to go get some coffee. Do you want to take a walk?"

As soon as Dave had said coffee, Hotch had an inkling of what the problem might be, so now he definitely wanted to talk to her.

"Yeah," Emily gave Hotch a weary nod, "some fresh air would probably help."

It was forty degrees outside, hopefully that would wake her up.

Just then Rossi started walking out with a smirk . . . one that Hotch ignored . . . as he waited for Emily to pick up her paperwork. She was definitely moving a little slower than usual.

They dropped off their files and grabbed their coats before heading out until the grey March weather.

Once the outside door had slammed shut behind them Hotch looked down knowingly.

"You gave up coffee, didn't you?"

She nodded sadly.

"Yeah two days sober," then she looked up at him with a pout, "it's killing me Hotch. I was already feeling run down, and now I have no energy at all," she shook her head, "I don't know what to do. I went to bed at like nine o'clock last night because I thought maybe if I could just sleep enough it would get better. But apparently this pregnancy thing doesn't work like that. You can't just," she scowled, "stock up on sleep."

Though Hotch genuinely felt badly for her, his lips twitched twice during her tirade. Once when the pout appeared and then when the scowl did. Emily always was quite animated no matter the topic. He looked down sympathetically.

"Did the doctor actually tell you to go cold turkey, or did you just decide to do that?"

She sighed.

"The book said you should cut out your caffeine if you wanted a healthy baby," then she sighed again, "and obviously I do want a healthy baby so I cut out my caffeine. I just didn't know it would be this hard."

It's not like she was a complete caffeine addict, she probably only drank 3 or 4 cups a day. And by the standards of her office, that was nothing! That's why she thought it wouldn't be so bad stopping. But she'd had a headache for over a day and she just felt like crap and she didn't know if that was the pregnancy or the withdrawal. She huffed to herself.

Probably both.

Hotch rolled his eyes.

"_The book said . . .,_" that was a phrase that he became familiar with during Haley's pregnancy. Half of the stuff that "the book said" was crap. And he knew this because every time Haley mentioned something that sounded particularly ridiculous, he told her to double-check with her doctor. And sure enough, probably eight times out of ten, the book was either flat out wrong, or over exaggerating the benefits or risks of a particular item or issue.

And coffee . . . fortunately for Emily . . . was one of the book issues that Hotch was intimately acquainted with. Because Hayley too had tried to go cold turkey in her caffeine abstinence.

Their marriage had almost ended before Jack was even born.

Fortunately though, Hotch had done his own research, and then checked with her doctor on the next visit. So he knew . . . on this particular issue . . . the book was crap.

Therefore he bumped Emily's elbow gently, and when she looked up at him, his lip quirked up.

"I have good news for you."

Her eyes widened slightly. "Oh?"

They'd just reached the front entrance to Starbucks, and Hotch paused for a second before opening the door.

"Actually you can still," he nodded firmly, "drink coffee."

Seeing Emily about to protest, Hotch shook his head scornfully.

"Uh, uh, 'the book' is not always right. Trust me, remember, I just went through this a couple years ago. And I swear to you that you can drink coffee," he tipped his head, "yes, you _do_ have to cut way back, BUT, you don't have to cut it out completely unless your doctor actually tells you to."

Emily looked up at him hopefully, "really? It won't hurt the baby?"

With a shake of his head, Hotch finally pulled open the door.

"Nope," he stepped back to let her go in front of him, "Hayley did the same thing that you did. She stopped completely and then found out she didn't have to," he tipped his head as they walked up to the counter, "granted _much_ later, in her eighth month, she did have to give it up completely, but that was her particular situation."

Though they were discussing Emily's not to be discussed pregnancy, Hotch wasn't concerned about anyone overhearing their conversation. It was later in the morning so the coffee shop was empty except for one old man reading a newspaper. And he looked to be about eighty so Hotch was quite sure he didn't work at the Bureau.

Emily chewed her lip as she stood at the counter. "Well, then how much can I drink?"

She trusted Hotch implicitly so she knew he wouldn't give her bad information. She gave a mental eye roll . . . which was apparently what she was getting from the stupid book.

Staring at the menu board he tapped his fingers on the counter, "you can have up to one cup a day," he looked back down at her, "which I know is considerably less than what you're used to, so your body will still need to adjust, but you won't have the headaches anymore."

Her eyes popped out.

"You know about the headaches?"

He huffed, "yeah, I had to give up coffee once for a week before I had some blood tests," he rolled his eyes, "not doing that again." He looked back up at the board and then down at her, "I'd suggest having a small half caf in the morning and one in the afternoon. That way you'll keep a little bit of caffeine in your system all day but you still won't go over the one cup rule."

Seeing the barista coming out of the back Emily nodded, "okay, yeah, that sounds good," she gave him a bright smile, "thanks Hotch."

This was great! She hadn't been sure how she was going to get through the next eight months with no beer and no coffee. Still no beer, but at least she could have a little bit of caffeine.

His eyes crinkled, she was pretty when she smiled. Well, she was always pretty.

That was an empirical statement of fact . . . Emily Prentiss was a very attractive woman.

But when she smiled, when she was happy, her whole face lit up. And he'd usually find himself involuntarily smiling back. Like now. Sometimes it was annoying, but at the moment he didn't mind so much because there was nobody else around. He had a reputation as a man with a dour disposition and he couldn't start randomly smiling for no reason, people would get the wrong idea.

Emily put in her coffee order and then waited while Hotch put in his as well. She started to pull out her card but he insisted on paying, muttering something to himself about Rossi that she didn't quite understand. But it was only a two dollar cup of coffee so she didn't fight him.

She'd get it next time.

After the girl put their drinks on the counter, Hotch and Emily looked at each other for a moment. And then Hotch tipped his head towards the back.

"Let's sit for a minute."

He had decided to take a more active role in her life, give her an ear to bend on occasion, and they had a couple free minutes. And God knows when that would happen again, so they might as well take advantage.

They headed over to the far corner, and Emily knew that Hotch always had to be completely aware of everyone that was around him, so she let him take the seat against the wall so he could watch the door. And she trusted him to watch her back so she was fine with being blind to the room.

After they were settled, an awkward silence settled in. They didn't usually go out to just talk. Well, they talked about work, but not generally about personal things. But she was busting with stuff that she'd learned this week at the doctor's. The problem was she didn't know if he'd really be interested in hearing about it. Finally Hotch broke the silence with a question.

"Do you have a due date yet?"

He'd been racking his brain trying to decide where to begin. And then he figured that was a nice neutral opening. As her boss, it was information that he'd need to know. But it also set the tone for at least showing that he was interested in what was going on.

Her face lit up, "I do! November 4th," she grinned, "my baby has a birthday!"

Thank God he started!

Hotch chuckled at her enthusiasm.

"Well, not necessarily. You know that's an estimated date. You'll probably go a little earlier or a little later."

Her eyes crinkled, "I know but it still feels more real now. It's a real person with a real birthday."

She rubbed her stomach but then remembered she needed to stop doing that and immediately yanked her hand away.

Furrowing his brow, Hotch put down his cup as he looked over, "what's wrong?"

Shaking her head, she rolled her eyes as she said softly, "I keep touching my stomach. And I need to stop before people start noticing."

He frowned, "well, it's just us here now so feel free to touch anything you want."

It wasn't until he saw Emily's mouth quiver, that Hotch realized what he'd said. His lip quirked up, "well, within reason of course."

Emily giggled and then slapped her hand over her mouth.

But it was too late.

She saw Hotch's eyes widen and his brow rose in amusement.

"I'm sorry Agent Prentiss, was that a giggle?"

"No," she rubbed her hand across her mouth as she cleared her throat, "I'm sure you're mistaken sir."

Real good Em! This is like the first time you've had a casual personal conversation with Hotch. How about you don't come off looking like a spaz?

He huffed, deciding from the slight color in her cheeks that he wouldn't tease her about it. His eyes dropped down again, trying to think of something else to ask. But nothing else was coming to mind. He took a sip of coffee . . . it really shouldn't be so hard to MAKE polite conversation. But unfortunately it was for him because he never did it. Not casual conversation, he only talked about work.

So he was probably coming off right now as completely lame, or totally uninterested. Though it pained him to admit it, he was almost hoping for lame. Because that way at least he wouldn't be scaring her off. He knew his demeanor was a little . . . off putting at times. And he also knew that she was under a lot of stress right now, so he wanted her to feel comfortable talking to him. He just had no idea how to . . . loosen up enough to do that.

Emily started to feel more and more uncomfortable the longer the silence went on. Maybe she had acted too much like a spaz. She decided to take a sip of her precious coffee. It had been sitting there since they sat down because she'd been too nervous to drink when they first sat down. But now she decided it would pass the time.

But of course, her luck being what it was, the girl hadn't put the cover on tightly. And when she picked up the cup and started to tip it, the lid popped off and hot coffee poured over her hand.

Hotch jumped as Emily suddenly yelped and clutched her hand, swearing under her breath.

He reached over the table, "are you okay? Let me see."

Eyes watering, Emily put her hand out, muttering in embarrassment, "it's okay, I'm just stupid."

Gently cradling her hand in his palm he looked up at her in astonishment, "Prentiss, the cover came off. That's not your fault."

When he turned her hand over, he saw that it was dark pink on her knuckles. He winced slightly in sympathy . . . that must sting like a bastard. But fortunately it didn't appear to be blistering. It was a good thing she'd left the cup on the table for a few minutes. He looked up at her.

"I'll go get some ice," he looked down at the puddle on the table, "and some napkins."

With Hotch hurrying back down to the counter, as Emily sat there mentally cursing her luck.

Granted, Hotch was right, this one wasn't actually her fault, but it certainly didn't help her, 'not a spaz' argument. She closed her eyes and tried to wish the pain in her hand away. It wasn't a serious burn, but it was sore. Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder, and she tensed up for a moment before she realized it was Hotch. Turning to look at him, he crouched down next to her, taking her hand and wrapping it up in the ice pack the girl had given him.

Realizing this was his best opportunity to clear the tension and start from scratch he asked softly, "does it hurt?"

She shrugged, responding in the same tone, "a little bit, but it's not that bad."

They stared at each other for a moment and then Hotch sighed.

"I'm sorry, I'm just not very good at being nice."

Though he'd thought that would clear the air, he could see from the look on her face that he'd obviously hurt her feelings. He felt a dig in his gut . . . great, he'd just made things worse.

That's definitely what she needs Aaron, to have yet _another _man treat her badly.

Asshole.

Biting her lip, Emily looked down at him as she whispered, "so you don't really want to hear about the baby? You were just being nice to me?"

God, now she felt like a fool. He didn't really want to hear about her life. He didn't want to be her friend.

He was just being polite.

Of course, she should have known that. Hotch was from the south. He was a gentleman, he always polite. And really, why would he want to get involved in the mess she was living in right now? He had his own problems, everyone did. So who would want to take on hers as well? She might as well get used to the idea that she was all alone in this.

Trying to head off the tears she could feel burning, she averted her gaze from his. Looking over instead at the coffee spilled in the middle of the table, thinking that she should clean it up.

But she just left it there.

Another few seconds passed and then she felt Hotch rub her leg as he whispered, "Prentiss, look at me."

Swallowing hard, she stared at the beige tabletop for another beat before her gaze shifted over to him.

Hotch winced when he saw that her eyes were moist . . . he hated that he'd hurt her. He leaned forward slightly.

"I'm sorry," he said with a sad smile,"that didn't come out right. I do want to hear about the baby. My offer to talk was sincere," he tipped his head, "granted, if you weren't pregnant we probably wouldn't be sitting in this coffee shop right now." Seeing the tears now pooling he patted her thigh, "but that's not what's important for you to remember. What's important for you to remember is that I have a divorce decree that proves that I suck at inter-personal relationships with women," seeing Emily's eyes crinkle slightly he smiled, "so basically, no matter how many awkward silences we sit through, remember that I do genuinely care, and I'm trying, but I'm just not very good at talking." He moved his hand over to squeeze her fingers, "but I'm a good listener, okay?"

Emily stared back at Hotch for a moment before a watery smile touched her lips.

"Okay," she whispered back.

Seeing that he'd actually managed to fix his colossal fuckup . . . that he'd actually made her feel better . . . Hotch gave Emily a soft smile. Then he told her to wait one second right before pushing himself up and going down to get the other coffee that the girl was making for him.

When he came back to the table a minute later, he dropped a fresh stack of napkins down before pausing to check the lid on Emily's cup. Once he was sure that it was secure, he placed it on the table in front of her. Then he picked up a few of the napkins and cleaned up the spill.

Once all of that was addressed, he turned to get the chair from the next table. He spun it around backwards so he could face her.

And then . . . hoping that the third time was the charm . . . he plowed right in.

"Okay," his lip quirked up slightly, "what else did the doctor tell you?"

He could see that at first Emily was a little hesitant to start talking. But as she went along, slowly that spark of enthusiasm started coming back.

Then soon . . . to his relief . . . she was acting like her normal self again.

And as he listened to her lament about the foods she could no longer eat, and ask him questions about the things that she'd read in her book, he realized that this might be fun. He had decided to become more involved in her life because he knew she needed someone. But now that he was actually starting to get pulled into her life, he could see the possibilities here . . . because he needed someone too.

People thought that he was oblivious, but he'd known for awhile that he was working too much. But he didn't know what else to do with himself. Before the divorce he had been an agent, a father, and a husband. Sadly, he had seen too late that those roles had been in that order of priority.

So now he was down to agent and father.

And his role as a father was severely curtailed. He had Jack on the weekend and that was it. So the rest of his time . . . the time that he used to be a husband . . . he just filled that with work. Because he didn't want to start dating, that held no appeal. And he had no hobbies, and really no friends that he hung out with . . . not anymore.

But he was a man that needed to feel useful.

So rather than finding a hobby or reconnecting with old friends, he threw himself into his job. It was a temporary solution to his permanent problem.

What to do with his life.

But now Emily had come along, and he was seeing a way that he could be useful again. Even if it was just for little snippets of time, it was a diversion. So though he was helping Emily . . . she was also helping him.

Plus . . . his eyes crinkled as she laughed about something . . . he really did like Emily. A lot. She was intelligent and funny . . . and a genuinely sweet person. That's why he'd always wished she'd find someone who was more worthy of her affections.

Someone who would appreciate her.

And thinking back over what had been done to her . . . how she'd been betrayed and humiliated . . . Hotch's jaw twitched slightly.

It was clear though that with this one, she'd definitely hit the scumbag jackpot. And he wanted to ask her if Matheson had made any more contact . . . if he'd given her any problems . . . but she was in a good mood right now, and he didn't want to bring that down.

Not again.

Besides, it would probably be best to wait before he showed anymore interest in her ex. Because Hotch had plans for him. And though he was going to make damn sure that what happened couldn't be traced back to Emily, he was also trying to make sure that if Emily found out what happened, she couldn't trace it back to him either.

Plausible deniability. That was the name of the game.

Suddenly seeing the color drain from Emily's face, as her voice faded to nothing, Hotch's brow creased as he reached over to touch her arm.

"What's wrong?" he asked worriedly, "are you sick?"

She'd just told him that there hadn't been any morning sickness yet, but that didn't mean it wasn't coming.

Shaking her head slowly, Emily's eyes shifted to his as she whispered in fear, "that woman that just walked in . . . that's her."

Hotch's eyes widened slightly . . . he wasn't expecting that. He knocked his empty coffee cup to the floor so he could turn to pick it up. Then he quickly eyed the woman in question before turning back to Emily.

"She's not paying you any attention. And she's laughing with her friend so I'm quite sure there's no problem. But . . ." he stood up, blocking Emily from view, "we should probably get going anyway."

Emily slowly stood up, keeping her face averted. She had no idea if this woman knew who she was, but she definitely didn't want to ever find out. Hotch put his hand on her shoulder, guiding her towards the side door.

Once they were outside, he gestured with his chin in the opposite direction of the office, "how about we just take the long way around so we don't run into her?"

She gave him a grateful nod, "yeah, thanks."

After they'd cleared the tension, she and Hotch had been having a really good conversation. Apparently the coffee spilling had been the best thing that could have happened to her. Because she could see now that his interest in her situation _was_ genuine.

And he'd been really helpful, telling her the things in the book that were true, and which ones she should double check with her doctor on. It was kind of weird that of the two of them, he had the most pregnancy experience even though she was the one carrying the baby.

Either way though, she was grateful for the advice. She wished she had a sister or a best friend, but her only close friends were at work, and her sister had died when Emily was nineteen. A drunk driver hit her limo on the way home from prom. Besides her sister, four other kids died, one was a vegetable, and the limo driver was paralyzed.

The drunk driver got five years for involuntarily manslaughter, out in three.

That's when Emily decided to go into law enforcement. And that decision . . . to choose a dangerous career after her parents had already lost a child . . . further strained her relationship with her mother.

So she didn't have any women in her life that she could turn to right now. She huffed to herself . . . Hotch was apparently the closest thing she was going to get to a girlfriend.

And hearing the man in question clear his throat, Emily turned to look up at him.

"Do you want to get coffee again tomorrow?"

Her eyes crinkled, "yeah, I'd like that," she looked back at the sidewalk.

"I'd like that a lot."

* * *

_A/N 2: I'm really making an effort to have this be very different from Girl. In so far that I keep what we know of them from canon, plus my own spin on their neuroses, and of course give them a sense of humor :) But I want it to be clear this is a different world. _

_It's kind of an exercise for me to see if I can do that, jump out of my box and be imaginative enough to come up with other reasons for their decisions and behavior. So in Girl Emily is an only child and went into law enforcement because of her father. And here I gave her a sister that was killed in a criminal act as the reason, not only for her career choice, but her problems with her mother. I think both are plausible, but clearly this one makes things a little darker. And that's part of what I'm going for her. Girl is light and I'm trying to make this a world with some shadows._

_I also moved the timing of Hotch's divorce up a little. If not for the writer's strike that season it's possible his divorce would have gone through earlier so here I've had him divorced since December. And I did that because I wanted him to be ready to move on, to be self aware enough to know on his own that he can't bury himself in work forever. And the personal space issues he has to work through in Girl, I didn't have the time for him to work through them here :) I'd like to get this story wrapped up in about 20 chapters so I can't do the minutia I did there. In this world, he's reserved at work, but he's not so hung up that he can't physically interact with Emily off duty like Morgan or Rossi would._

_Speaking of Rossi, in the spirit of changing things up, I'm making him an active matchmaker as opposed to a casual observer. _

_So hopefully, you guys are enjoying this so far. Please let me know though, on the first chapter I got 4 reviews and 314 hits. To me that means most people are reserving judgment until they see where I'm going with this ;) And trust me, I do understand that :) But hopefully now though, you do have a little better idea on what my angle is. And this is a jump for me. To date, I haven't been able to do one shots outside of Girl or the canon post eps. I get a headache trying to make them 'different.' But now that I have space to build a new relationship I'm trying to embrace that._

_My brain is kind of fixated in this world so I'll probably be posting again here in the short term._

_Next: "__**It's Not Easy Being Green**__"_


	3. A Clean Conscience

**Author's Note**: I don't want this story to be epic so I'm going to (roughly) try to work around a format of two chapters covering each month of her pregnancy. At least to get her through the first four or five months of it. That of course won't be a hard rule, there are a couple little story arcs planned as we move into the 2nd trimester. But at least this way we can keep skipping ahead and not get bogged down. We have already played the minutia version of 'getting to know you' over in Girl and the point of this world is for them to get to know each other differently. So this way there will be a little recap of where they are to date. Hopefully this will run smoothly and I can keep the whole thing under 30 chapters. I'm aiming for 20, but I have a tendency to go off on little tangents so I'll be thrilled if I stop at 25 :)

And I ended up adding a rather lengthy bit to the end here and that sort of changed the whole tone of the chapter. Therefore I changed the title as well.

* * *

_**Week 5**_

**A Clean Conscience**

"Will that be all sir?"

Hotch looked at the items on the counter.

_. . . Ginger ale_

_. . . Caffeine free diet coke_

_. . . Gatorade_

_. . . Mouthwash_

_. . . Box of unsalted saltines_

With a furrow of his brow, he leaned back to look down at the candy displayed beneath him. On an impulse, he reached down and grabbed a Hershey bar, dropping that on the counter too. Then he looked back up at the kid.

"Okay, that's it."

When the clerk started ringing up his order, Hotch shot another look over his shoulder to see if Emily was coming out of the convenience store bathroom yet.

No.

And that wasn't good. Because she'd been in there for sometime now, and he was starting to get a little worried.

It had been eleven days since Emily had knocked on his door to tell him that she was pregnant. They'd gotten coffee together at least seven or eight times since then. And though they'd had a bit of a rocky start, they were doing better now. They still had the occasional awkward pause, but those were brushed over more easily than they had been initially.

Overall they were . . . for lack of a better word . . . bonding.

But still pretty much all of their conversation circled around her pregnancy. With the exception of that first day, their coffee breaks were relatively short, only fifteen or twenty minutes. That's not a lot of time to get into new things. So there really hadn't been a lot of personal information exchanged that wasn't in some way related to Emily's impending motherhood.

She asked him questions . . . he told her about Haley's experiences with Jack. Initially some part of him had felt like it was a violation of the marital trust to talk about those things. But then he remembered that he wasn't married anymore. And Jack was as much his as Haley's. So though the physical effects of the pregnancy were Haley's alone . . . the experience of a new life growing . . . that belonged to both of them. Those were his memories too.

And he had decided that it was okay to share them.

The team of course, had noticed that they'd been spending time together, but nobody had commented on it. Well, there had been some knowing looks from Rossi, which was a bit of a comment by itself.

Pain in the ass.

But Hotch didn't really pay him much attention. Because he was enjoying this new aspect of his relationship with Emily too much to let anything dampen it. Even though he'd known that he'd been working too much, he still hadn't consciously realized just how much of his life had been taken over by the ugliness of his job. It was nice to talk about something . . . domestic.

Really, it was just nice to talk to a woman again.

For twenty years he had been married . . . and then all of a sudden he wasn't. Female companionship, in all of its incarnations, had been ripped away from him without his permission, and without any prior notification.

But now that he and Emily had begun sharing some of their personal time, he was appreciative of having some balance in his life again.

And between their breaks, and work, he'd come to know the symptoms of her pregnancy pretty well. And he noticed a couple of days ago that she had started looking a little peaked in the mornings. But she told him that she was just a bit queasy, not actually sick.

That was back home.

Now they were in Oklahoma investigating a series of prostitute murders. They'd arrived late last night, and he and Emily had gone to do an interview early that morning. And though she had still asked questions . . . and had been completely engaged in the conversation . . . Emily had been a noticeably pale shade of green the whole time they were in the house.

As soon as the door shut behind them he'd asked if she was okay, but she'd insisted it was still just the same queasiness, and that she was going on the mind over matter approach.

But as Hotch expected, given her awful coloring, matter kicked mind's ass ten minutes later.

On the ride back to the station she'd suddenly clamped her hand over her mouth, groaning, "okay, we need to stop." Fortunately he'd spotted a 7/11 on the corner so he did a quick U-turn. Otherwise she most likely would have been throwing up on the sidewalk. As it was she was already out the car door and at a run before he'd even gotten the key out of the ignition. And as she'd sprinted into the convenience store, she'd plowed over a woman who was walking out.

Actually knocked her to the ground.

Hotch had cringed as he got out of the SUV. Emily was long gone but he'd had to stay and smooth THAT over with the woman's husband.

A large man with a lot of neck tattoos.

Unfortunately a straight apology hadn't worked. The guy wanted to fight. But Hotch wasn't in the mood for that macho bullshit so he just pulled his badge and told him to get the fuck out. Then he'd apologized to the wife again . . . Emily had flattened her.

So once Mr. and Mr. Lords of Death had left, Hotch had gone around the store picking up a few things that he hoped would settle Emily's stomach. Stuff he remembered working for Haley.

After the clerk handed him his bag, Hotch turned back to look towards the bathrooms again.

Still no Emily.

He looked back at his watch . . . okay, they were definitely closing in on ten minutes.

That's not good.

Biting his lip he headed down to the back of the store and into the shiny white hallway. It looked like it was just one stall for women and one stall for men.

After hesitating for another second he knocked on the door.

"Emily? Are you okay?"

No answer . . . definitely not helping his level of concern.

He slowly pushed the door open, "I'm coming . . ."

And he stopped, his heart clenching as he saw her sitting on the dirty floor . . . she was crying.

Emily looked up at him, tears running down her face, "I can't stop throwing up."

As if to punctuate the point she turned, retching into the bowl again.

Oh shit.

She was shaking, vomiting and crying all at the same time, and Hotch didn't know what to do about any of it. He flashed back on Haley being sick, and what he'd done for her . . . but Emily wasn't his wife. He was her boss, and right now they were still technically on duty. Then he looked at her again and said screw it and decided that he would just go with what he knew.

Dropping the bag on the floor, he stepped the rest of the way into the bathroom, the door swinging shut behind him. Then he crouched down behind her, holding up her hair and rubbing her back. When she stopped throwing up, he looked down sympathetically, "any better?"

She took a gasping breath and looked up at him, "not really," her gaze dropped, "I'm sorry. I know we have to get back."

That's all she kept thinking as each wave of nausea hit her. We don't have time for this! But her body was insisting on making time. And now she was screwing up work. And she'd been so good about not letting this affect her job. But now . . . women are being murdered, they have an UNSUB to find, and not only is she out of commission, she's got the lead investigator tied up here with her too.

God damn it!

Astonished, Hotch brushed her bangs off of her sweaty face, "Emily . . . don't apologize for being sick."

Before she could answer him another wave hit her and her head went back over the bowl. But she had nothing left but dry heaves . . . which were killing her stomach.

As Emily's hands clenched her abdomen, Hotch had a jolt of panic and he asked worriedly, "is it the baby?"

She shook her head as she leaned back again, gasping for breath, "my stomach," She groaned, "Christ! I can't keep doing this."

God! When did she become such a pansy? She was barely halfway through her FIRST trimester and she's already getting her ass kicked. How was she going to get through the rest of this?

Hotch didn't really have a response to that so he just kept rubbing her back. When her breathing and her tears seemed to be under control he asked quietly.

"Do you want to try to stand up?"

Nodding, she said softly, "yeah, I'm not sure how well it's going to go though."

She had of course tried to stand up before. Foolishly assuming that after she threw up the first time that she was done.

With one hand on her back and one on her upper arm, Hotch slowly pulled her up off the floor. She was still rubbing her stomach.

His brow creased, "you doing okay?"

It had been at least two minutes since she'd thrown up.

Closing her eyes she took a couple of deep breaths before she nodded, "so far."

Leaning over, he flushed the toilet before moving her over to the sink. After washing his hands he wet a paper towel with cold water and wiped her forehead.

God she looked miserable.

Emily looked up at him with a sad smile, "thank you sir."

It was embarrassing that he was seeing her like this. But not as bad as she would have thought it would be. As it was she just didn't have the energy to be as mortified as she probably would have been a month ago.

And the one bright side of it being Hotch and not one of the other guys was at least he already knew what the problem was. He wouldn't ask her questions that would send her into a blind panic. If Morgan had found her like this he probably would have dragged her to the hospital. Dave too.

Hotch's expression softened, "why don't you wash your face. And I bought you some mouthwash. That might help a little."

Her eyes crinkled slightly, "thanks."

He patted her arm and walked over to get the bag. Emily looked into the mirror and winced.

She was a fright.

Her eyes were puffy from crying, what was left of her makeup was smeared, her nose was running and her coloring was a chalky white. When she came in she was pretty sure she was a chalky green so maybe the white was an improvement.

And the stomach cramps were still there, but she was pretty sure that was just her muscles recoiling.

Hopefully that would settle down in a minute.

In the meantime, she started cleaning up. First she rinsed out her mouth and as she was splashing cold water on her face she looked up to see Hotch was holding out the mouthwash . . . he'd already filled the cap for her.

She gave him a grateful smile as she turned to take it.

"Thanks."

And after she rinsed her mouth out, she actually did feel a little better. At least the yuck taste was out of her mouth.

Though he knew that it was a bit rude, Hotch stared openly at Emily as she pulled herself back together. He could tell from the clench of her jaw that she still didn't feel well. Not to mention the way she kept clutching her stomach. God, he wished he could send her back to the hotel. But he knew she'd never go for it. And if he started trying to coddle her it would probably just piss her off.

Though he didn't see it as coddling, she was sick and she needed to rest. One thing was for sure, she definitely was out of the field for the rest of the day.

As they walked the few steps over to the door he asked softly, "are you sure you're feeling better?"

He knew she really wasn't. He just wanted to make sure she was well enough to leave the bathroom.

With a faint nod, Emily stepped through the door he was holding open for her.

"Yeah, I feel . . ."

And then she stopped. She didn't know why she was about to lie to the man. He'd just held her hair back while she had her face in the toilet bowl, and they were spending the day together. If there was a risk of her vomiting on his shoes, then he really deserved the right to know that. So she finished her thought with a sad head shake.

"Um . . . no actually, not really."

She really wouldn't mind the throwing up so much if it made her feel better. Like if she just knew that every morning she had to throw up once and then she would feel fine, well, that would be okay. Or if not okay, at least tolerable. It was a schedule, and a schedule gave you a sense of security, of normalcy.

You knew what was coming.

But as it was, she'd felt crappy for the last three days and now she'd just thrown up for fifteen minutes straight. And she still didn't feel any better!

As they started to walk back to the SUV she gestured down to the plastic bag he was carrying.

"What else did you buy besides the mouthwash?"

He chewed his lip, "just a couple things I thought might help."

Hotch handed her the bag as they separated to go to their doors.

Emily climbed into the Tahoe, slamming her door shut before she began looking through the items. Her eyes crinkled wearily as she looked up at him, "thanks Hotch. That was really nice of you."

Sliding the key into the ignition Hotch tipped his head, "yeah, well I remember the ginger ale and saltines settled Haley's stomach so I thought it might work for you too. And I got you the unsalted kind because you should watch your blood pressure."

Her eyes crinkled . . . sometimes he was really sweet. And the doctor had told her that, though she was definitely okay right now, her blood pressure was something that she might have to watch in the future.

She sighed as she looked back at the bag of supplies he'd bought her, "I hope something here works." She broke open the box of crackers with a moan, "this really sucks."

Hotch glanced over, "I'd suggest small bites."

He knew her stomach might reject the food just on principle now.

Nodding, Emily nibbled a little corner of her saltine and washed it down with a sip of ginger ale. She gave it a minute and when that didn't come right back up, she continued eating the cracker, and once she finished it she had two more the same way. She wasn't hungry, not at all, but she'd lost all of her breakfast. So in addition to hopefully settling her stomach, Emily knew she also needed to get some food back in her system or her blood sugar would drop.

Yeah that was all she needed to top off her morning . . . she rolled her eyes . . . to pass out.

But Hotch was right about the crackers and ginger ale. She was feeling a little better.

She'd been queasy for the past couple days but had been able to keep it tamped down by sheer force of will. Apparently she wasn't always going to win these arguments with Baby.

Sliding the sleeve of crackers back into the box she noticed the chocolate bar in the bottom of the bag. Pulling it out, she held it up between them, "was this a Haley trick too?"

Hotch glanced over, "no, that's just for you. I figured for when you're feeling better."

Smiling softly, Emily slipped it into her jacket pocket, "thanks."

He was being really great about this whole thing. Not only had he kept her secret, he was giving her advice and going out of his way to help her with this other stuff too. Definitely above and beyond what she would have thought when she knocked on his door.

Thank God he'd decided to take an interest in her pregnancy, because she couldn't even imagine how awkward this car ride would be right now if he hadn't. If he'd just said 'thanks for telling me' and sent her on her way.

Still though, she felt badly for causing a delay.

She looked back over at him contritely, "I'm really sorry about this. When I said I wanted to keep working I wasn't anticipating this being such a problem."

Hotch shot her a hard look, "I already told you Prentiss, _don't_ be sorry. It's just what it is. It's part of the process."

When he saw her flinch slightly, he realized he was being a little too gruff and added on a gentler note.

"Hopefully it'll pass soon. It's usually only the first trimester, and sometimes it doesn't even last that long. If you can figure out any particular triggers that might help keep it under control. It might have just been the travel that threw you off. We didn't get much sleep last night. But, either way, in the meantime . . ." he jerked his chin towards the bag, "you might want to find a place to hide that mouthwash because the team's going to think it's odd if we're driving around with a large bottle of Scope."

She huffed slightly, "I'll just tell them that you insisted on making out in between interviews."

Hotch hit the directional while responding drolly, "yes, well, as solid a plan as _that_ is," he shot her a look, "perhaps you could just put it under the seat."

Eyes crinkling slightly in amusement, Emily tightened the cap.

"Okay, we'll do it your way sir," she leaned over to slide the bottle back under the bench seat, "but my plan would have been way funnier."

Now that she spent more personal time with Hotch she was more comfortable teasing him. She of course wouldn't do it in front of anyone else though.

Hotch huffed, "yes, well that may be. But I'd kind of hoped not to end my career by getting fired for egregious acts of harassment."

She gave him a tired smile, "ah but sir, if you're going to go out, you should really go out with a bang," she tipped her head, "so to speak."

They'd just stopped at a red light and Hotch's lips twitched as he turned to her, "you do know that you're going to be somebody's mother right? You're going to have to watch your language around the little person."

"Baby."

Wrinkling his brow Hotch looked over in confusion, "excuse me."

That was a random utterance.

And then she patted her barely existent belly.

"Baby, capital B. Until I know what he/she is and start thinking about names, that's what I decided I'm going with." She tipped her head, "and besides that wasn't 'foul' language, that was an inadvertent double entendre." Her lip quirked up slightly, "I highly doubt the fetus understood what I meant."

Hotch raised a droll eyebrow, "probably not given that it doesn't have ears yet."

Emily winced as she looked down, gently rubbing her stomach, "ooh, don't say that, that freaks me out." She was quiet for a second and then she added faintly, "what if they don't grow?"

That thought kept coming to her. It was stupid but she kept worrying, like obsessively, that maybe there would be something wrong with the baby. Her eyes began to sting . . . she knew it was probably just her own guilty conscience. She got pregnant by another woman's husband. That would be a fitting punishment.

Hotch looked over to see Emily's eyes were watering and he winced.

Damn it.

He hadn't meant to upset her. But it was true! The baby really didn't have ears yet! Fetuses didn't come fully miniaturized. Most of that stuff took the full nine months until all the parts were in working order.

Then he berated himself.

_The science behind the whole thing isn't really what's important right now Aaron! _

Here he is in the car with a first time single mom who is sick, exhausted and stressed out from throwing up for almost fifteen minutes straight. And she's already been putting herself under a ridiculous amount of strain over the guilt of the conception, and he just told her that her baby has no ears.

_What the hell?! Why don't you give her something else to worry about jackass?_

They had just reached a red light and his face softened as he turned, picking up her hand and squeezing it. He waited until she looked at him before he said softly, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to put a bad thought in your head. Your baby's going to be just fine."

At his kind words, the tears spilled over. And she hated that she was crying again, especially in front of him. He'd already seen her much too weak today. But she'd been keeping this one bottled up since she'd found out she was pregnant. All of the conversations they'd had, she tried to keep them light, not to burden him too much with her worries. But apparently the combination of the exhaustion and the hormones were catching up with her. She sniffled, looking over at him sadly, "I just keep thinking that there's going to be something wrong with it. That God will punish me for what I did."

Hotch's eyes widened in horror as he looked at her.

"Emily, you don't _really_ believe that, do you?"

She wiped the side of her face, "I might be a lapsed Catholic Hotch but a lot of that stuff takes root. And I know it's illogical, but all I can think is that I did something bad, and that my baby might suffer because of it."

They both looked up as they heard honking from behind them.

The light had turned green.

For a second Hotch ignored the other cars as he stared at her. He could see she really did believe what she was saying. He couldn't have that. That was just . . . no.

Absolutely not.

Though he knew that they had to get back to the station, at the moment he felt that this was more important. So when he took his foot off the brake, rather than continuing straight towards the precinct, he turned off the main boulevard and down a residential street. He drove another half mile, ignoring the questioning look he could see out of the corner of his eye. Finally he pulled over and stopped on the side of the road.

They were in the midst of suburbia.

He looked over at Emily, picking up her hand and squeezing her fingers between his. Her eyes were still wet as she stared at him.

"Prentiss, I already told you that you didn't do anything wrong. But even if you had," he squeezed her fingers again, "God doesn't punish like that," he looked away as he gestured with his other hand, "look out the window, all these homes, all these bicycles and toys on the front lawns. Swing sets in the backyards." He looked back at her, holding her gaze, "do you think these are all good people? How many do you think cheat on their spouse? Cheat on their taxes? Drink and drive? And those are just the standard sins. Now think, statistically, how many of them have things on their hard drives that they don't want people like us to see."

She turned to look out the window as he continued softly, "all of those people, breaking the law, sinning against God, and look at all of those bicycles and swing sets and toy trucks."

His face softened as he whispered, "I promise you . . . your baby will be fine."

It wasn't a promise he should be making because it wasn't one he could personally keep. But she was young and healthy so the odds were good. And God forbid, on the off chance that something did go wrong, it wouldn't because God was doling out karmic punishment. It would be because a cell didn't divide correctly.

And that could happen to anyone. That was just life.

Emily stared at the toys, thinking about what Hotch had said. Thinking again about she had done. And what she had witnessed over the years. How many terrible tragedies she'd seen befall so many families. Not that she ever thought that anyone . . . ever . . . had deserved what had happened to them. Of course not. They were victims and they deserved her compassion and her sympathy.

But sometimes she'd see something in their eyes and she had wondered . . . just to herself . . . if maybe they thought they had it coming.

Because that's how she'd always looked at her own life. That there was balance and punishment. And eventually things would catch up with you.

That way of thinking had started when her sister had died.

She sighed, feeling Hotch rubbing his thumb along her hand . . . but maybe Hotch was right. Maybe it was all random.

The drunk drivers, the icy roads, the sparks from frayed extension cords . . . the birth defects.

Maybe all tragedies were random. Wrong place . . . wrong time . . . no reason.

Some part of her was more comforted if there was a reason. If it was punishment. But most of her wanted to embrace this new way of thinking. It seemed freeing, liberating . . . letting the guilt go. And as she thought about everything she was going to be dealing with over the next seven and a half months she realized maybe that maybe that new way of thinking, would be the best way of thinking.

If she just let the other stuff go.

Guilt served no purpose beyond mental anguish. It was punishment that you inflicted on yourself. And Hotch was right, Chris was the one that should be punished, not her. She didn't know he had a wife. So, though she had slept with a married man, gotten pregnant, she didn't _know_ at the time she was doing anything wrong.

And legally, without intent, the punishment for a crime was less severe. Perhaps that held true morally as well.

Perhaps she'd punished herself enough.

She looked back over at Hotch, saw him watching her closely, and she nodded slowly.

"Okay."

His eyes widened slightly, "okay?"

He was expecting more pushback.

She nodded again, more firmly this time.

"Yeah, I can't promise that those thoughts won't creep up, it's sort of the way I've always looked at the world. But I'll try," she swallowed, "I'll to let some of this stuff go."

Eyes crinkling slightly he gave her a sad smile, "good."

He was silent for a moment wanting to offer more, but not sure if there was anything else he could give. These were her issues, and she was going to have to find a way of dealing with them. The best he could do, all he could do, was what he had already done.

Show her an alternate viewpoint. A different way of seeing the world.

With a final squeeze of her fingers he let them go and started the car again. He turned them around and headed back towards the station.

They drove along in silence, but it was a comfortable silence. They had broken down another wall.

Emily decided to rest her eyes for a few minutes. And Hotch started thinking about the look on her face when she told him that she thought God would punish her. He couldn't believe that she'd gone her whole life waiting for the universe to come around and take its pound of flesh.

From her of all people.

And though she of course wasn't perfect, she was kind and sweet, and genuinely a good person. If there was any such thing as karmic justice that would mean she would live a happy life. But he'd seen some things in her file, and he knew that hadn't been the case.

Not even close.

And though he didn't know the exact circumstances, he also knew that she had a sister that had died when Emily was in college. It had happened not long before he'd done the security check for her mother. The only reason he knew about it at all, was because the State Department had privately warned him to tread lightly on questions about the daughters.

That one of them had died several months earlier.

At the time there was no Internet, so he couldn't easily research to find out what had happened. If it had been relevant to the security review he of course could have gotten the information from State. But his curiosity was personal, not professional, so he'd thought it inappropriate to ask. And his curiosity about the situation had actually stemmed from a chance encounter with Emily. He remembered meeting her one time when she was home from college. And the experience had made an impression because though she had been sweet and polite when they spoke, her eyes had been incredibly sad. When they met again years later they had more spark, but there was still something in them. Something that she carried.

Something that weighed her down.

Maybe that loss also explained the parade of losers that he'd seen go through her life. Because he knew that there was always a reason that the nice girl fell into that rut. The one that made her attract that same asshole over and over.

She deserved so much better.

They came to a light and he looked over to see she had fallen asleep. His expression softened.

She definitely deserved better. And maybe if she could start thinking differently . . . he wiped a bit of drool off the corner of her mouth . . . maybe better would come along.

* * *

_A/N 2: I think we're moving along pretty well. And yay, I gave Em a whole new shadowy back story! The infamous file, God knows what's in there. But given she has more vulnerability in this story than my others I wanted there to be some stuff there would explain it. And I have given her a bit more of a "spiritual bent," though I'm not even sure if that's the right description for it. She's not religious per se, just, I've personally found, in moments of crisis that all that old school Catholic stuff you get raised with comes around and smashes you across the face again. Bad stuff happens, you're getting punished. I think that about myself but again, I don't assume that about others. I don't assume people got what they deserved, just that I did! Yes, it's warped. But unfortunately it's really hard to shake off that stuff you learn when you're a kid. That's your original programming, and it's hard to wipe the hard drive :)_

_I really can't think of a worse place to throw up than a convenience store bathroom. Except maybe a gas station bathroom. Blech to both, but it was better than throwing up in the car._

_And fun fact, my baby research showed that in fact the internal workings for the ears are just starting to form around the 6__th__ week. Right where she is. But Hotch was right, they aren't external so they definitely can't hear anything yet. _

_The next two consecutively are pretty much done so I should be posting pretty regularly this week. I'll probably alternate them with Girl. Amazingly I have the next four done there. Which is fortunate because it's a busy week and I don't know how much new writing I'll get done._

_Still love feedback ;)  
_


	4. The Dark End of the Street

**Author's Note**: This one will disclose (as evidenced by the prompt) the main event in Emily's file. And as is clear from the title of the chapter, it's an ugly thing. So just a warning there is an allusion to some sexual trauma. But it is not at all explicit.

* * *

**Prompt Set #7**

Show: Pokemon

Title Challenge: The Super Hero Secret

* * *

**_Week 6_**

**The Dark End of the Street**

"_What_ are you eating?"

Emily stopped chewing her burger as she looked up at Hotch guiltily.

"A double quarter pounder with cheese and a large fry."

Though she felt bad for starting without him, she was starving. They'd gone up to the prison in Jessup that morning to conduct an interview. They didn't get out until almost two. She was so hungry by the time they'd left that she'd been ready to gnaw her hand off!

Unfortunately the guy sitting across from her probably would have enjoyed that. He had made a stew out of his six victims. And there had been a point in her life where that knowledge would have completely killed her appetite.

But disturbingly those days were long past.

No, _these_ days, regardless of how disgusting the caseload, she was generally starving by noon. And that was because she'd finally figured out the trick to her morning sickness. Provided she got enough sleep, and ate her crackers and ginger ale before she got out of bed, it was mostly back to queasiness.

The crackers in bed were the one suggestion from the book that actually had some merit.

And given their locale today, it was very fortunate that she'd stopped throwing up like it was her job. Because she really didn't want to add 'prison ladies room' to the list of disgusting locations she'd emptied her stomach in the past couple weeks. After the episode last Sunday in the convenience store bathroom, she'd also thrown up in a gas station bathroom, a dumpster, and finally . . . the SUV.

The SUV was the worst because she of course had been mortified. And even though Hotch told her it was okay and he'd take care of it, she had insisted on trying to clean it up herself.

Bad idea.

The smell alone brought her to her knees again. So Hotch had walked her over to the curb and then cleaned it up himself. She really didn't know how to thank him for that.

Hallmark did not have a card that covered vomit removal.

But he got the SUV at least passable to get back to the field office, and then he switched it out before they saw anyone on the team. He told the motor pool they'd had a witness get sick.

She owed him big time and had sworn to herself that nothing like that would happen again.

Luckily the crackers had done their trick today, and she'd managed to keep her stomach tamped down through the morning. And by the time they were done with the interview the queasiness was gone and ravenous hunger had taken its place. Pregnancy was a weird thing, if you weren't sick you were starving. Either way, she'd told Hotch that she had to eat something before they started back.

So they were now at the McDonald's down the road from the prison. Hotch received a call from JJ just as they drove into the parking lot, and he'd told Emily to go in without him.

That was five minutes ago. And now he had a really weird look on his face.

Shaking his head angrily, Hotch reached down and snatched the burger out of her hands.

"No."

_Christ! What was she thinking?_

First, Emily was stunned that her burger had been taken away. But then she was horrified to see it get dumped unceremoniously back into the paper bag. And THEN, adding insult to injury, Hotch scooped up all of the fries and threw THOSE in on top!

_What the hell was going on here?_

Emily's jaw dropped.

"Hey! What . . " she sputtered, "what are you _DOING_?! That's my lunch!"

Hotch scowled at her.

"Prentiss you _can't_ eat like this anymore! Jesus!" he looked down at the grease stains on the bag, "you're lucky your arteries work at all," his eyes snapped back up to hers, "and they're going to be under more stress now. You _can't_ keep pouring in fifty fat grams and 3000 milligrams of sodium in one sitting," he lowered his voice, "do you want to stroke out?"

After that day with the no ears thing, he had been trying to be sensitive about not accidentally scaring the hell out of her again. But on this one he was deadly serious. Strokes did sometimes happen to pregnant women who were otherwise healthy. And if he had anything to say about it that was NOT going to happen to her.

Emily's eyes widened in alarm.

"NO! No, I DON'T want to stroke out!"

What the HELL? How did stroking out become a lunchtime concern? When did THAT happen?!

Feeling some of his anger fade, he looked down at her.

"Okay then _this_," he shook the bag, "is going right into the trash."

He'd wanted to address his concerns about her diet for a little while now. She had cut out all of the things the doctor told her to, but he'd seen her eating junk food at her desk at least three or four times over the past month. And he'd been holding his tongue just because they were still sorting out this new 'off duty personal relationship.'

But this . . . he scowled at the bag . . . THIS was too much to ignore! This was like a week's worth of nutritional intake condensed into six bites of food!

If she kept this up she really would stroke out.

Emily looked longingly at the bag, "first beer, and now my French fries too."

But Hotch was right. She probably shouldn't be eating that stuff anymore. She'd been so wrapped up in taking the vitamins and supplements and avoiding the cheeses and deli meats that she hadn't even thought about her junk food. It was her one vice, picked up over years of eating on the go.

God . . . she sighed . . . this was probably going to be the hardest habit to break. She didn't know how to eat really healthy. She lived off take out. And most take out options were not particularly nutritious.

Hotch's expression softened as he stared at her . . . she looked so unhappy.

His eyes dropped back to the table as he thought about how little food she'd actually consumed today. Just her one bite of the burger and the (un)salted saltines that morning.

Well . . . he rolled his eyes . . . a couple fries would probably be all right. He dug into the bag, pulled out a half dozen French fries and placed them on her napkin.

"Here, these shouldn't kill you."

For a moment they stared at each other. And then Hotch's jaw twitched Emily gave him a soft smile.

"Thanks," she whispered.

That combination of gruff sweetness really was a charm unique to Hotch alone. Nobody else could pull off both at the same time.

Shaking his head slightly, Hotch slid his eyes to the side for a moment.

"Uh okay, I'm going to go get you something healthy," then his gaze shot back, and he gave her a mock scowl, "Baby should be eating green stuff, not grease."

A huge grin suddenly appeared on Emily's face.

"You said Baby!"

For like two weeks he'd been rolling his eyes at her capital letter Baby and now he'd picked it up too! That made her really happy. It kind of made the whole idea of it more fun, like he was in it with her. Somebody else was sharing the experience.

Eyes wide, Hotch stared at her for a second.

Damn it!

That slipped out. He'd actually been thinking of it as "Baby" for over a week now. But after he'd initially teased her about doing it, he'd thought it best to keep that knowledge from her. So attempting to regain the upper hand in the relationship, he cleared his throat before responding formally.

"Well, I decided that it is a remarkably efficient term given that you don't yet know the sex of the child."

Emily's lips twitched.

"Apology accepted sir."

With an irritated grunt, Hotch turned away from the table and headed up to the counter. At first he started to look at the menu options and then he saw the nutritional chart on the wall. He walked over and started comparing the salads.

His eyes popped out.

God, even the stuff that looked like it was good for you wasn't! He finally decided to get her a Southwest Salad with low fat dressing. That looked healthy.

He went back to the counter and ordered a salad for each of them, figuring it would just be mean to eat fatty foods if she couldn't. And then he got her a yogurt parfait for dessert. Hoping that would be enough food to fill her up, he leaned against the wall to wait for their order.

Their interview had gone on for much longer than he'd anticipated. And as the hours had ticked past he'd started getting a little distracted thinking about the fact that she needed to eat. Actually, if he was honest with himself, he'd been a little distracted the whole time they were in there.

The more weeks that passed, she was almost at three months now, the more he was consciously _aware_ that she was pregnant. In fact, he'd hesitated about bringing her with him to the prison today. Even though it was her turn on the rotation, _and_ she'd been asking to get more experience taking the lead on in-custody questioning. But even with both of those factors, he'd still hesitated because it was a maximum security prison and he'd been worried about her safety.

And then he realized that he was being ridiculous. The prisoner they were going to question was so dangerous that he had to be in full restraints whenever he was out of his cell. Which in a perverse way meant that she was even safer than she would have been if it was just a run of the mill serial.

But beyond that, he'd also realized that he didn't have the right to restrict her duties because of his own personal hang ups. She certainly was still more than capable of doing her job. Especially today when her job had simply been to sit in a chair and talk.

And she had of course handled herself exemplarily. To the point that Hotch had been a little ashamed that he'd thought about leaving her at the office. He needed to remember that she was an agent first, pregnant woman second. The doctor said she was cleared to work so who was he to question that? And if Emily had any concerns about accompanying him today she would have raised them. So he needed to start putting aside his own, admittedly, slightly chauvinistic tendencies. He wasn't intentionally being sexist. It just all came back to his primary experience with pregnant women being through Haley. Of course he wouldn't have brought his pregnant wife to a maximum security prison with him to interview a serial killer that had eaten his victims and had once bitten off the nose of a guard who had leaned in too close when he was taking off the restraints.

That's clearly not a situation that you bring your pregnant wife into. So he had therefore immediately recoiled at the idea of bringing Emily into it.

But, as Hotch had to keep reminding himself . . . Emily was _not_ his wife. So he had to be very conscious of his motivations when making decisions in regards to her safety. Those decisions needed to be based on professional reasons, NOT personal ones.

He was actually a little surprised at himself, he was usually better at separating the two. Eh . . . he shook his head slightly . . . he'd figure it out eventually.

Hearing his number being called, Hotch pushed himself off the wall and went over to pick up their order.

Emily looked up as Hotch came back to the table. She was slowly chewing her last French fry, trying to make it last as long as possible. But now that her second lunch had arrived she swallowed quickly, looking up to give him a little smile as he sat down with the tray.

And then her brow wrinkled . . . what the hell?

She looked up at him in confusion, "what is this?"

Hotch shot her a look as he said drolly, "something that won't kill you."

He began taking the covers off of their salads, trying to ignore Emily's frown, but then she blurted out.

"But it's just lettuce!"

Huffing he picked up the extras, "no, it's not. See, you can put the nacho chips on it. And there are beans and things in your salad," he gave her an encouraging smile, "I know it's not what you're used to but it's good for you."

Frowning, Emily stared down at the ingredients for a moment. Then a look of resignation came over her face . . . nobody said it was going to be easy. With a slow exhale, she started to put together her sad little meal. But then she looked over at his and stopped, "how come yours has chicken?" she bit her lip, "I like chicken."

Wincing, he looked up, "the chicken was like another 1000 milligrams of sodium."

Damn it.

He knew she'd notice. But HE sure as hell wasn't going to be able to survive on just lettuce! This was definitely the last fast food restaurant they went to. He'd put out the extra cash if he could find something healthy for her to eat that wouldn't turn him into a rabbit too. But staring now at her pathetic little expression, and hearing her dejected, "oh" he felt guilty even though he was doing this for her own good. He looked between their two bowls.

She was right . . . it was a crappy lunch.

As he chewed on his lip, Hotch looked back down at his meal and sighed. Then he picked up his fork and moved three of the small strips of chicken from his salad over to hers.

Her expression immediately brightened when she saw the chicken now sitting on top of her pile of lettuce. Eyes crinkling, she looked over at him.

"I wasn't trying to guilt you into sharing, but thank you."

She really hadn't meant to make him feel guilty. It was just that she had been disappointed to see how hard it was going to be to eat a healthy meal.

When Hotch looked up again he was about to say something smart, but then he saw the smile she was giving him and his eyes crinkled.

"You're welcome," he responded quietly.

For a moment he stared at her, but then he began to get flustered when he suddenly realized that he had gone past polite eye contact and was indeed . . . _staring_. So he cleared his throat and changed the subject to one he was going to bring up anyway.

"You did an excellent job on the interview today. Solid command of the room and you didn't allow him to get you flustered. Really Prentiss, impressive work all around."

Swallowing her bite of chicken, her eyes stung slightly as she looked up at him with a smile.

"Thank you very much sir."

He tipped his head in acknowledgment and they both went back to their lunches. But Emily wasn't really focusing much on her food. She was infinitely more excited about Hotch's remark than she was letting on to him.

An "excellent." That was a really big deal! Because Hotch was not inclined to throw out meaningless praise. Not that he was a difficult boss, not at all. He was actually a great boss. Always supportive, and very protective of his people.

And he always went out of his way to thank everyone for their hard work.

But he didn't toss around the "excellent" word lightly. She could probably count on one hand the number of times he'd said it to her. And she did remember every occasion.

His good opinion meant a lot.

As evidenced by her string of shit boyfriends, she didn't have much of a personal life. Not a meaningful one anyway. So her work was everything to her. Her hand involuntarily touched her stomach.

At least it had been.

But because of that preoccupation with her job, of doing it well, of being respected, Hotch's opinion had initially meant more to her than maybe was healthy. Your sense of self worth should never be dependent on anyone else's opinion of you. It should always come from within. But she'd had problems with her self esteem for years.

Since Albuquerque.

That was her first assignment out of the Academy. She was fluent in Spanish and they needed someone to help with the drug cases that were starting to swirl up out of Mexico. The problems with the cartels in that part of the country were nothing like they are today. But still . . . things were starting to get bad.

And she was just a kid back then. Twenty-four years old and fresh out of the Academy. She'd had a shitty couple of years and was desperately trying to put her past behind her and make a new life for herself. And because of that she'd made one colossally stupid mistake and nearly died because of it.

She was only a rookie, so she was just supposed to be translating what the senior agents told her to translate. Mostly she did wiretaps. Occasionally she accompanied them on their meets with the CIs. But she was most definitely NOT a handler.

She was a grunt.

She was paying her dues. But then one day when she'd translated a voicemail from one of their informants that he had important information, she saw it as her chance to prove herself.

It had already been seven months and she was status quo with no change in sight. And though she certainly wasn't trying to chase any glory, she just thought that maybe if they saw that she was capable of showing initiative, that she could get a little more responsibility. And though the meet was in an alley, it was in broad daylight. She really hadn't thought that she was taking any foolish chances.

She'd been wrong.

The cartel had set a trap, the information the CI had was bogus. It was only intended to lure out the informant himself. And of course to see who he was meeting with. To see who he had been passing information to. Not necessarily the individuals, but the agencies. The cartel was trying to find out where their leaks were.

And any law enforcement officer who happened to get in the way of this fishing expedition . . . well, these were people who thought nothing of blowing up judges. What was one pesky little FBI agent in the grand scheme? One pesky kid. A kid who's hand shook when she pulled her gun.

They'd laughed and taken it away from her. And then the butt of that gun had been smashed against her temple.

That first blow to the head was probably the only kind act God allowed to be bestowed upon her for the next day and a half. Well, _that_, and actually allowing her to live.

She remembered those next thirty six hours in bits and pieces. Which really was a blessing. Because what she did remember was bad enough. The next night they left her for dead on the side of the road. And a few hours after that, a trooper doing a routine traffic stop saw the bloody sheet catch in the flash of his lights. It was chance.

Luck.

The first lucky break that she'd had since that piece of hardware had connected with her skull.

She was told later that she barely survived the first night. And she was in intensive care for over a week, spent five weeks total in the hospital and it was another two months before she was cleared for duty. She'd been beaten so severely that her mother didn't even recognize her when she came in the first time. And then she'd started weeping and left the room. Every day that Emily was in the hospital she came to see her. Each time she stayed for an hour . . . but things were strained.

Worse than ever before.

And though her mother didn't say it, Emily could see the anger in her eyes. Because Emily had done something stupid . . . and she'd almost died. Her parents had already lost a child, and now they'd almost lost another.

So basically things with her mom went from bad to worse.

But her dad, he was great. He took an unofficial leave of absence from the Agency and stayed with her day and night until she was released. Given the severity of her injuries, she didn't clearly remember any of her assailants. Not enough for composites. The faces were a blur. Really the only thing that stuck with her clearly were their tattoos, and their scars.

But that apparently had been enough for her dad.

Because his world didn't operate under the same rules that hers did. For his people, laws were inconveniences that they worked around. So in the end she'd been able to provide enough information for the CIA to take care of things, but ironically she'd been utterly useless during the debriefing with her own people.

A month after she got out of the hospital, a border patrol chopper spotted a half dozen bodies out in the desert. Initially it was assumed that they were illegals that had gotten lost in a tragic border crossing. But after Emily heard how they died . . . what had been done to them . . . she knew . . . that was all her dad.

But she never said anything . . . and neither did he.

That became one of a million things that her family didn't talk about.

By the time those bodies were found, she had already been transferred to Portland. Everyone up the chain agreed that she was no longer safe in New Mexico, and the Bureau didn't want her anywhere near a border state in case the cartel decided to finish what they started.

If Emily could have told them that all of those men were dead, maybe that would have made a difference in her next assignment. But she certainly wasn't going to tell her superiors that her father and his colleagues had already tortured, castrated, and executed her assailants.

That wasn't happening.

Not to say that the FBI was unsympathetic. She was just a rookie. And she hadn't gotten anyone else hurt. The CI would have been dead no matter what. So all of those agents that she'd worked with for those first seven months of her career . . . they were incredibly nice to her during the whole investigation.

But behind the masks of sympathy, she saw in their faces the cold hard truth of the matter.

She'd fucked up.

Emily knew that's what they thought every time they looked at her. Because that's what she thought every time she looked in the mirror. THAT point wasn't actually in question. She _had_ fucked up.

And she'd paid dearly.

But part of her thought that she had those thirty-six hours coming to her. And for awhile . . . deep down in the part of her brain that had been messed up for years prior . . . she thought her mother felt the same way. Of course the rational part of her brain knew that her mother loved her, would never wish her harm, and probably would not have recovered from the loss of a second child.

But the rational part of her brain didn't hold court at three in the morning.

A couple years of mandated therapy had at least curbed some of that self loathing and unfounded blame of her mother. But she wasn't much a fan of shrinks. And she really only went as long as the Bureau ordered her to . . . which had been two years and seven months. Then she was deemed 'cured.' And she didn't protest her release from those weekly sessions. Because she was better.

A LOT better.

Her scars had faded, her nightmares were rare, and she'd started dating again. That was what the therapist had determined was her great marker of progress.

A date.

So it wasn't as though Emily didn't feel that there had been some merit to those visits. They had helped her get over the worst of it. But she didn't like to discuss her problems with strangers. So she hadn't sought out any additional help after she was rubber stamped. And back then she didn't have any close friends.

So really . . . after her therapy was done . . . she didn't discuss her problems with anyone.

Ever.

And that was probably why she was as screwed up as she had been for as long as she had been. She'd had crappy taste in men before her attack and she had crappy taste in men after her attack. But it's not as though she'd been date raped or jumped in a parking garage. Her attack was something that happened on the job. So once she'd gotten over that first year of therapy, her phobia wasn't about trust of men in general, it was about work in particular.

About getting back into the field.

For over a decade she had one meaningless assignment after another. She excelled in each one because she was filled with a desperate need to prove herself. But basically for years after the assault, she was just riding a desk. The Bureau just didn't want to put her back into the field again.

And part of her understood that . . . and she was sickened that part of her was secretly grateful for that too.

But all those years sitting behind a desk, she'd spent that time sharpening her skills. She took every defensive training course the bureau offered, and once she'd exhausted all of their resources, she started taking classes on her own time.

On her own dime.

She learned kickboxing, got a brown belt in Karate and a black belt in Tai Kwon Do. And slowly she started to feel like she was ready to try again. Because she wanted to help people. That's all she'd ever wanted to do. That's why she'd joined the Bureau. And she knew that she wasn't making a difference. Not really.

She was mostly just spinning her wheels.

So she researched, found the hardest division to get into, and that was the one where she thought she could do the most good. And then she took all the classes and applied to the BAU. And she was absolutely thrilled when her assignment was approved.

Once again, she had her chance to prove herself.

Of course she'd had no idea that Strauss had signed off on her transfer without Hotch's approval or consent. And the stupid woman had done that in the misguided hope of placing a mole in his unit. But oddly enough, Strauss' treachery had helped Emily in the long run. Not only had it solidified her relationship with Hotch . . . that day when he'd discovered that she'd quit rather than spy on him . . . but coming to a Unit where she was initially not wanted, and not trusted, had been what finally helped her to turn a corner.

To start to once again truly feel confident in her own abilities.

Because she'd had to work so much harder to be accepted, she'd known from the moment that Hotch had given her the first nod of approval, the first "good job Prentiss," that she'd truly _earned_ his respect.

And that any praise he gave her from that point on was based solely on the merit and quality of her work. There was no pity. No knowing glances.

No corners that were cut to make things easier for her.

Rape survivors are already prone to have issues with their self esteem. It's even worse when your _entire_ organization coddles you wherever you go. But she'd never had that with Hotch.

Not once.

And as she looked across the table at him now, watching him clean up their trash, she wondered if he'd ever read her file. Because it seemed odd that he wouldn't have. But all of her other chiefs had treated her differently the moment they found out what had happened to her.

_So why hadn't he?_

Sensing Emily's eyes on him, Hotch looked up.

"What?"

He'd been running through the things he needed to do when he got back to the office. But he just noticed that Emily had been unusually quiet while they ate. Though it wasn't until he caught her staring, that he realized how odd it was for her to be THAT quiet, for _that_ long.

With her jaw twitching, Emily continued to stare at him for a moment, as though she could see the answer on his face. And then she shook her head.

"Nothing." She answered quietly.

She supposed it really didn't matter that much. Either way, it wasn't the time or the place to ask him about it.

Now slightly concerned at her demeanor, Hotch looked at her for a moment before wrinkling his brow.

"Are you sure nothing's bothering you?"

"Yeah," Emily nodded as she placed her empty water bottle on the tray, "yeah, I'm fine." And then she slid her chair back, the legs scraping on the ground as she stood up, "let's go."

His jaw clenched for a second as he looked at her, and then he stood as well, picking up their tray and the rest of their trash.

If she wanted to talk, she knew he would listen. They'd certainly moved past the awkward approach. So he figured that he should leave well enough alone for now.

If it was important it would come up again.

After dropping their trash into the bin, he hurried over and grabbed the door that Emily had been holding open for him.

Once they were outside ,Hotch noticed that she was still a little too quiet. When they were traveling alone she was generally . . . chatty . . . cheerful. Though he sometimes feigned annoyance, it was kind of nice actually. And he was a bit concerned about her change in mood.

Not that she seemed upset really. Just . . . pensive.

Either way, he figured that this was as good a time as any to ask his question. He'd been thinking about it while they ate. She was walking slightly ahead of him, and he wanted to get her attention, so he reached out to gently grasp her hand.

She stopped in the middle of the parking lot, looking up at him with a quizzical expression. He decided to just plow right into it.

"I have another interview to conduct in a couple weeks out in Montana. Do you want to come with me?"

He wanted to prove to himself that he wasn't treating her any differently just because she was pregnant. And because this was not going to be a trip that most people would take an expectant mother on with them, he thought this was a good litmus test for himself. Because his new mantra for her was . . . agent first, pregnant woman second. And she had done an excellent job today, she had earned the reward. However, sadly, in their line of work rewards were somewhat perverse things.

This was going to be a very ugly visit.

A child killer. And his crimes were prolific. But studying his methodology could save more children in the future. Gideon and Morgan had gone out there a few years ago but they had come back empty handed. He wouldn't talk to them at all. But a little more time had passed, a few more of his appeals had been denied, and the BAU had finally convinced him to agree to complete their questionnaire. The fact that he had agreed meant that the interview would probably be more productive than the prior one. So this was quite a get, and she had demonstrated today that she was more than capable of handling the big fish on her own.

Emily's eyes brightened, "you're asking if I'd like to come with you to interview Harvey Willis?"

He nodded and she grinned.

"Yes, absolutely!"

This was awesome! Willis was a white whale. Her enthusiasm was of course immediately tempered with the knowledge of what they were going to have to sit through. The details of the rapes and murders of those young girls. But she was trying to push aside that ugliness for now.

There would be time later to prepare for the horrors of the interview itself.

No, at the moment she just wanted to revel in the happiness that he'd asked her to come with him. Because again, he wasn't coddling her, he was treating her like he would any of the others. Her eyes sparkled as she looked up at him . . . and these were the moments that boosted her confidence. Reminded her that she was damn good at her job and she had no reason to doubt herself.

She no longer had anything to prove to anyone.

Of course, as had become the custom lately, when Emily smiled at him, Hotch involuntarily smiled back. And he stared into her eyes for a moment, thinking about what . . . he didn't know. But then he realized that he was still grasping her fingers.

Both the smile and his hand immediately fell away.

Surprised at his own behavior, his brow wrinkled as he questioned himself . . . what the hell was that Aaron?

Not having a satisfactory answer even for his psyche, he jerked his head towards the car.

"Uh, so we should probably get going so we don't hit any traffic."

Seemingly oblivious to his unexpected discomfort, she nodded happily, "right," and continued on towards the car.

As he watched her go, part of him was happy to see her mood so completely altered. And yet part of him was still thrown by what he had done.

It wasn't that he'd grabbed her hand, he'd done that before. That wasn't such a big deal on its own. It was that he'd done it unconsciously. In a completely impersonal moment . . . he was talking about work assignments!

He should NOT be holding Prentiss' hand when they talked about work assignments!

Trying to shake off his unease, Hotch hit the locks but then he stopped after he opened his door. And he stopped because Emily was staring at him over the roof of the car. She gave him a grateful nod.

"Thank you for this opportunity sir."

Jaw tight, he held her gaze for a moment. And then he realized that whatever had happened a moment ago, that was his issue . . . not hers. It wasn't right to pull back from her now. So his expression softened and he tipped his head.

"No thanks necessary Prentiss . . . you've earned it."

She gave him a brilliant smile before ducking down to get into the car.

For a second he stared at the space where she'd been standing, and then he shook his head.

It doesn't mean anything Aaron . . . just let it go. If you start getting a complex about your interactions with her then you're going to ruin this new friendship.

And with that thought in mind, he got in the car and turned to give her a smile.

"So did you have enough to eat?"

* * *

_A/N 2: I never intended to write an 'Emily gets raped story.' I'm adamantly opposed to that. I feel somewhat possessive of them now and I don't enjoy 'hurting' them. But as far as I'm concerned, this is not a rape story. I simply made allusions as to what she'd gone through over fifteen years ago. And Morgan was also sexually assaulted (that's canon, he was a child) and simply to mention it in a story wouldn't make it a 'Morgan rape story.' In both instances those were things that happened a long time, it's just part of their backgrounds. And though they both still have some ripple effects today in what they do, the people they are, neither of them want those incidents to be what defines them. So though Emily and Hotch will eventually have that discussion about whether or not he has read her file, (which we know he has) I don't intend for this to be a major plot point. It will most likely only come up once more in an equal sharing of past trauma. This is a story about two damaged people falling in love, not a story about why they're damaged._

_Until I started scribbling this chapter I actually wasn't sure exactly what I was planning on putting into her file. But as I began to write the back story, I debated about just having her get severely beaten. But beyond Hotch's reaction in the last chapter about reading her file and seeing how bad things had been for her (something worse than just an ass kicking). I was thinking about two other things. One, her occasional self esteem issues. That's canon, though it's generally chalked up to the 'geeky tendencies', there's nothing to say that's her only issue. And I'd already given her the deceased sister, and there's some shadowy stuff around that. So it fell more in line that maybe she'd do something 'unwise' in an effort to push forward on building a new life and that ended up backfiring catastrophically. Plus, as I said initially, this is a world with much more shadow than light so the bad things in their pasts will be worse than Girl._

_But the one thing that struck me from canon, the thing that made me decide to make her Albuquerque thing a real horror story, was something JJ said in the episode where Reid gets abducted. The follow up one, when she and_ _Hotch are questioning Emily about how she's handling things. And JJ says something to the effect of the fact that she's been riding a desk for years and all of a sudden she's in the field and nothing that's going on seems to be affecting her. So beyond explaining Emily's need to 'compartmentalize' as a coping mechanism (understandable if she'd gone through a trauma like the one here where she'd probably have drifted off even when she was conscious) why would Emily, who IS clearly so capable in canon, have been benched for so long? Either she'd seriously screwed up and was being punished. Or something had happened and they'd been wary about putting her back in the field. Though she did make a mistake, I'm leaning towards the latter being the reason she was out of play for so long. That also gave me the idea of why she'd be motivated to be a kickass field agent by the time they did cut the apron strings. Because again, per canon, why WAS she such a capable field agent right out of the gate if she'd been working the desk for years? My answer is that she'd been preparing herself for the moment that she'd get the chance to prove herself again._

_Again, this all comes back around to a kind of a reinterpretation of what I've already interpreted one way in canon._

_I decided to have her dad be in the CIA in this world too just because I still think that's a very logical career for him. _

_This week I saw The Closer and a rerun of Law & Order, and both of them prominently featured gangs and they were all covered in tattoos. And though these were fake gangs, it reminded me, REAL hardcore gang members, their ink is just disgusting! They cover their faces and everything. And of course the tats do mean things so all that would be very helpful to figure out the assailants were. Probably more so than general descriptions. That's where the inspiration of having the tattoos as the identifying markers came from.  
_

_It's also obvious Hotch is starting to look at her a little differently. I've said I'm not going to make them a couple early on here. So FINALLY, we'll get to embrace a little of the awkward push and pull that I so specifically avoid in my other stories!_

_I think I'm going to go to Montana with them. But next up we're actually going to Lamaze class! And I know it seems early for that but there is a logical reason which will be explained in the chapter._


	5. Nobody Expects the Spanish Inquisition

**Author's Note**: They are completely off duty here so the shippy elements here are way more obvious.

Given this is only a week after the trip McDonald's I've already violated my own '2 chapters per month' rule. I suppose that was to be expected.

* * *

**_Week 7_**

**Nobody Expects the Spanish Inquisition**

Hotch looked worriedly across the seat to Emily who was unclicking her seat belt.

"You're _sure_ that you can get home from here?"

As she slid the belt back over her shoulder Emily nodded while flashing him a quick smile.

"I'll be fine." Then she paused with her hand on the door handle, "my friend can give me a ride back to my car."

That was a lie, and she felt a little stab of guilt about not being truthful with him. But she wasn't about to tell Hotch that in actuality there was no friend meeting her. That she was actually planning on grabbing a cab home from her first Lamaze class.

He'd just insist on coming back to pick her up.

Which was really nice, but she was already taking up entirely too much of his time. He was still the only one that knew she was pregnant, and since she'd told him about it early last month he'd gone out of his way to help her out. For the last three cases, he'd kept her partnered with him exclusively so nobody else would see that she was sick. Plus he'd been keeping her in an endless supply of saltines and ginger ale, and then last week he'd even started buying her healthy lunches because he, "didn't think that crap she ate was good for Baby."

He had really been _incredibly_ sweet about everything. Like amazingly so. And that's why she didn't want to take advantage of his good nature. A cab was perfectly safe, so it wasn't at all a lie when she said that she'd be fine getting home.

Though admittedly it was going to be a bit of a pain getting back to her car.

That morning she and Hotch had gone to an HR training up in The District. And then Hotch had to pick up some paperwork over at Justice, so they didn't end up leaving the city until almost six.

Right in the middle of rush hour.

There was bumper to bumper traffic all along the beltway. And then, of course, there was an accident. That was the point when Emily had started to realize that she was going to be late for her first Lamaze class.

The class that she was already attending alone like a big LOSER.

So she'd started having a mini freak out. Which manifested itself externally as her squirming in her seat like it was covered with fire ants.

It had taken about five seconds for Hotch to deduce that something was up, and thirty more seconds to needle it out of her. Once he'd known where she needed to be he'd immediately gotten off the nearly gridlocked beltway. and circled back around the surface streets to get to the hospital where her class was. And he had of course made excellent time weaving between cars, so even though she had been running late, she was now actually pretty early.

She poked her head back back through the SUV window as she said goodbye.

"Thanks for the ride," she grinned, "and the Evil Knievel driving. I'll see you tomorrow."

He nodded. "Yeah, and hey," his lip quirked up, "have a good time."

Her eyes crinkled, "thanks," and she slammed the door shut.

Hotch watched her for a second, waiting until she was inside the building before he drove off.

It felt a little weird leaving her there after dark so far from her car, but if she said she definitely had a ride then he guessed it was okay.

As he took a left out of the parking lot, he started thinking about her situation. She'd been unbelievable so far. Even with the morning sickness that hit her like a ton of bricks, she hadn't missed a day of work . . . or even gone home early!

She was really starting to adjust pretty well to everything.

It was funny, even though they talked regularly now about both the pregnancy, and well, just generally, life, he'd still been a little surprised tonight when she told him about the Lamaze class. She hadn't mentioned it before. And it was also somewhat unexpected just because he knew that usually women started them in the second or third trimester. Haley waited until the third. But Emily said she'd read in the book that attending them early on could be helpful for first time mothers to develop a support system with other pregnant women. And that the principle was especially true if those expectant mothers didn't have a partner.

And not only did Emily not have a partner, but she really didn't know any women that she could talk to about anything related to the baby. So she'd told Hotch that she thought this class might be good for her.

He thought so too.

But actually he was just really glad that she'd finally told somebody else besides him about the pregnancy. Not that he minded keeping her secret, but he worried that the longer she kept it, the more people would think she was doing it because she was ashamed. And they'd infer from that that somehow she'd done something wrong.

And though he worried that was still part of it, he was pretty sure that she'd begun to move past that thinking. Which was good, because she had absolutely nothing to be ashamed about.

And besides . . . his lip quirked up in a grim smile . . . he'd already taken care of the sperm donor for her.

Though of course she didn't know that. And if he had his way, she never would.

Hotch had an old friend stationed out of the Pentagon. He was a SEAL, and after Hotch did a little recon to determine the jagoff's regular routines, Hotch had called his buddy and asked him to meet for a beer a bar that neither of them had been to before. He brought a picture and explained that the gentleman hung out at Kowalski's pub on Friday nights, and that he needed to get his ass kicked. Hard.

Charlie did it for him no questions asked.

So Emily's ex ended up in the hospital with a broken nose, two black eyes, a mild concussion, three cracked ribs, a dislocated shoulder, a broken arm, a bruised kidney and one severely sprained testicle that sadly ended up having to be removed.

Hotch was very pleased with the outcome even though he'd hated having to outsource the job. He was actually royally pissed off about that. But he'd already met the guy more than once. So if he'd done it himself it would have been immediately connected back to Emily, which most likely would have caused her problems.

And she already had enough problems.

This way, the douchebag, drunk off his ass, had inadvertently ended up getting into a completely random bar fight after bumping into the wrong guy on the way to the men's room. And Charlie was long gone before the local P.D. showed up. And though Hotch hadn't yet decided if he was done making this guy bleed, for now . . . it was all good.

As he slowed for the stop light he glanced down to see that Emily had forgotten her bag.

_That wasn't good._

And when he picked it up he saw that her phone, her keys and her wallet were all inside.

Shit.

Okay, well she definitely was going to need this tonight. So as soon as the light changed he did a U-Turn and headed back to the hospital.

/*/*/*/

Emily slowly walked down the hospital corridor, checking the door numbers as she went.

There had been a sign in the lobby indicating that they were holding the Lamaze class in the left wing in room 8B. Of course she had no sense of direction so she'd first gone to the _right _wing. And 8B over there turned out to be an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. Fortunately she'd picked up that she was in the wrong room as soon as she'd poked her head in the door.

There weren't any women there.

So one awkward "oops, sorry guys," later, she'd headed for the other side of the building.

Now let's see . . . she continued checking room numbers . . . 8D . . . 8C . . . 8B!

Thank God!

And oh look . . . she smiled . . . they even put a picture of a little stork on the door for the directionally challenged such as herself.

Now that she was there though, she was feeling pretty nervous. But the book said a class like this would be good for her, help her develop a support system.

So with that thought in mind, she took a deep breath, yanked the door open and stepped inside.

She was relieved to see that even though she'd gotten lost, the class hadn't started yet.

Apparently Hotch had made _really_ good time getting here.

As she scanned the room she scoped out the rest of the participants.

Half a dozen couples, three traditional male/female, one fairly obvious (from location of hand on ass) lesbian couple, and two other female pairings.

Though given the facial similarities she'd assume those were respectively a mother and daughter and two sisters.

Great . . . she rolled her eyes . . . she _was_ the only person there by herself. She'd hoped with the newbie class there might be at least one other woman alone. But she had prepared herself for the contingency of being the only partnerless person. And she figured that she might as well find the teacher now . . . most likely that woman wearing the '_Hi My Name Is Darlene_' name tag . . . and explain the situation.

Well, the version of the situation she wished to explain.

Either way, it would be better to do it now . . . alone, before she had to do it awkwardly to the whole room when the woman asked where her coach was.

So . . . after plastering on a big smile . . . Emily crossed the room.

/*/*/*/*/

Hotch followed the numbers down the hall, 8D . . . 8C . . . 8B.

Yep . . . he nodded to himself . . . stork on the door, this has to be the right place. And after he'd pulled the door open, he slowly poked his head around the corner.

He was really hoping that they hadn't started class yet. God knew he didn't want to embarrass Emily on the first day by interrupting and making her the center of attention.

But no . . . his eyes ran over the room . . . looked like they were still just mingling. And there was Emily in the corner talking to . . . he squinted . . . some woman with a nametag.

Must be the instructor.

He made a beeline in their direction, calling out Emily's name as he approached. When she turned he gave her a little smile and held out her bag. He was hoping to get in and out before class started so he wouldn't cause too much fuss.

That plan was kind of shot to hell when the instructor gave him a big smile.

"Oh you made it!" She exclaimed, "Wonderful!"

Hotch raised a confused eyebrow.

"Excuse me?"

The teacher gestured to Emily with a smile.

"Ms. Prentiss was just telling me that her boyfriend wouldn't be able to make it tonight."

Hotch's eyes shifted down to a rapidly reddening Emily . . . she was clearly avoiding his gaze. And while still staring at her, he directed his voice back to the teacher.

"Was she now?"

Then his gaze shot back up to the older woman. He gave her his most charming smile.

"Could you please excuse us for just one second?"

She smiled.

"Of course! I need to finish setting up anyway," she tapped her watch as she said in a sing song voice, "class begins in two minutes!"

After the teacher walked away, Hotch bit his lip as he looked back down at Emily . . . she was still staring at her boots. So he tipped his head down to catch her eyes.

"Prentiss, why did you lie to me about meeting your friend?"

Feeling like a complete jackass for getting caught in such a stupid lie, Emily lifted her head sheepishly.

"Because I thought you'd feel obligated to wait for me," she sighed, "and you've been so good about everything, I just didn't want to start taking advantage and getting on your nerves."

"Prentiss," Hotch rolled his eyes while reaching over to squeeze her hand, "you're _not_ getting on my nerves. Well," he huffed slightly, "anymore than you ever did before."

Emily gave him a little smile.

"Good to know sir," and then her nose wrinkled slightly as she frowned at him, "and I'm sorry about lying to you."

He shook his head.

"It's okay. But what's this business about your boyfriend being away?" his eyebrow went up, "you're not ashamed of your situation are you?"

"No," Emily simultaneously shook her head and pushed her hair back behind her ear, "no, it wasn't that. I'm not embarrassed about being a single mother." She snorted slightly, "I just didn't want to look like a big loser who didn't even have any friends she could call," she looked back over at him with a shrug, "I figured a traveling significant other would be the best solution for now." Then her brow knitted together as she glanced over to the other members of the class.

"I just didn't want anybody here feeling sorry for me."

If there was one thing that she couldn't stand, it was pity. Her life might not have been a cakewalk but all things considered, she was doing okay. She was healthy, she had a good job and a baby coming. So she sure as hell didn't need a bunch of strangers giving her that 'oh you poor thing' look. After all, her hope in attending this class was to maybe make a friend or two. And that definitely wasn't going to happen if she got pissed off at them on the first night.

Hotch stared at her for a second, biting the inside of his cheek. He really wasn't sure how she would take his offer but he figured he'd never know unless he asked.

"If you want," he shrugged, "I can stay with you for class tonight."

Emily looked up in horror.

"God no Hotch! I didn't mean to . . ."

Realizing she was about to seriously stick her foot into her mouth, she stopped, took a breath, and started again.

"I mean, that's really nice of you to offer, but it would be an _enormous_ imposition. And you've done more than enough for me already."

Hotch shook his head.

"Prentiss, I was just planning on going back to the office to get some files and then I was going home so it's not like I had any big plans tonight. Plus," he tipped his head over to the instructor as he added drily, "that woman already thinks I'm the father. And I'm going to look like a complete asshole if I go off and leave you here alone right now."

Emily snorted, "that's true, you would look like total schmuck."

He sighed, "_exactly_, so if you let me stay then you'd be doing me a favor."

They stared at each other for a moment, both knowing who was really doing who the favor here. But Emily thought he was being really sweet just by offering to stay, let alone offering to stay _and_ trying to protect her dignity at the same time.

And . . . she bit her lip as she looked over the room . . . she definitely would be less anxious if she wasn't all by herself the first night. Plus, the bonus was her traveling significant other story would carry more weight because all of these people would see that her 'boyfriend' did indeed exist.

Finally she nodded.

"Okay," her lip quirked up, "as a personal favor to you I will allow you to stay and be my coach tonight."

"That's really big of you Prentiss," Hotch flashed her a dimple, "thanks."

Her lips twitched in response, "I thought so too sir." Then her eyes drifted across the room and she started to get flustered again.

"Oh! It looks like they're starting."

Hotch's gaze eyes followed after Emily's . . . the other couples were settling down on the mats. He looked down at her panicked expression with a little smile.

"Uh, we're already here, and we only have to walk twelve feet. I promise we won't be late."

Her eyes crinkled slightly and she started to feel a little of her tension slip away.

"Right."

Okay, this was definitely good that Hotch was here. He was obviously way more capable of rational thinking than she was right now. She was already anxious and the stupid hormones tended to amp up her emotional reaction to well . . . everything! But she just needed to try and calm down.

Because everything would be fine.

Hotch would sit with her while the teacher talked, and then afterwards they would have cookies and juice off that little table set up in the corner. And as she drank her watered down orange juice she'd introduce herself to the other expectant mothers and maybe make a friend or two. There were five other women here. And she wasn't looking for a soul mate, just ONE person she could have a cup of decaf coffee with and discuss baby names and morning sickness and swollen ankles.

Not that she had swollen ankles yet, she just wanted to have somebody to commiserate with her when she did. She just wanted to have one other person in her life that knew exactly what she was going through.

That wasn't too much to ask, was it?

As they started to walk over to the center of the room all of Emily's happy rational thoughts went flying out the window, and her panic suddenly came roaring back. It spiked to twelve when she stopped short in the middle of the room, causing Hotch to bump into her. He put his hand up to steady her.

"What's wrong?" He asked worriedly, thinking she was about to get sick or something.

Emily spun around, yelling in a harsh whisper, "I FORGOT MY PILLOW!"

_It was in her car! She thought she'd be going back to the office. Oh geez!_

Hotch tried not to laugh at the look of complete distress on her face. Then he cleared his throat.

"Prentiss it's really okay. I've done this before so I can assure you that they keep extra pillows on hand for situations like this," he pointed, "see the box up there. It has pillows and baby dolls in it."

"Oh," Emily closed her eyes and sighed in relief, "thank God." When she looked back at him, she was shaking her head.

"Really, how much of a complete spaz would I have looked like if I'd showed up here without a pillow?"

To which he responded drolly.

"Yes I'm sure you would have been mocked mercilessly by all of the other first time pregnant women who don't know what they're doing either."

In response to _his_ response, Emily grumbled something under her breath that she wouldn't repeat when he asked what it was she'd said. So after giving her a mock scowl Hotch, sent her off to grab the last mat while he went up to get her precious pillow.

The instructor gave him a sympathetic smile as he walked to the front of the room.

"She seems quite nervous. Is this your first baby?"

With a shake of his head Hotch pulled a pillow out of the box.

"No, I have a son from a previous marriage." And then he realized that the question wasn't really about him, so he clarified, "but this is Emily's first child."

It was a little weird implying that Emily was carrying his baby. After all, he was technically her boss. But then he remembered that these people didn't know that. Hell, they were total strangers who had no connection at all with their real lives. So what did he care what they thought? He was doing this for Emily.

To make things easier for her.

So after giving the instructor a polite smile . . . she was a little too 'stepford wife pleasant' for his taste . . . Hotch crossed back over to Emily. He dropped the pillow down on the mat in front of her. Then he started to take off his suit jacket. And with a slight gesture of his chin, he motioned down to her jacket as well.

"You need to be able to move around."

Emily looked down.

"Oh . . . right.

She slipped off her jacket and handed it to Hotch. Then she watched as he took all of their belongings over to one of the chairs arranged around the edge of the room.

As he walked back towards Emily, Hotch noticed that she . . . and he . . . were getting some worrisome looks from the others in the room. His brow furrowed for a second before he realized what the problem was.

They were both still wearing their service pistols.

So he quickly slid his credentials out of his pocket and flipped open his badge while projecting his most authoritative voice around the room.

"Sorry folks," he gestured to Emily, "FBI, we just came from work."

Seeing Emily looking over at him in confusion, Hotch gave a pointed nod down to her hip. Her eyes dropped down . . . and she cringed.

Damn it.

When she looked up, she gave a sheepish smile to the class while pulling out her own badge. Then she held it up high.

"Yes, I apologize," she tried a joke to break the tension, "what's this the first time somebody brought two handguns to a Lamaze class?"

And . . . crickets.

Really, really HATEFUL crickets who were looking at her like she was a suicide bomber.

Feeling a wave of humiliation wash over her, Emily eyes started to sting . . . oh God, why did she have to open her mouth?

Hotch watched as she turned crimson and dropped her head in embarrassment. First he felt a stab of pain in his chest, and then a flash of anger that these people had made her feel badly about herself.

_Fucking assholes! She was obviously nervous, why did they have to do that to her?!_

He scowled at the entire group as he hurried the rest of the way back to her so she wasn't alone. She might as well have been wearing a scarlet letter for the amount of venom being sent in her direction. He dropped to his knees and reached forward to pull her back against his chest. Without thinking, he ran his hand down her arm before he brought it down, wrapping it around her stomach protectively. And that's when he felt the small bump under his fingers.

Her baby.

He felt a warmth spread through his body . . . he was touching her baby. Wow. And then he felt another surge of protectiveness and looked back up, staring down the last of the petty little disapproving pricks that had embarrassed her.

Short of actually pulling out his gun and shooting someone, which would definitely get the attention off of her, this was about the best he could do. Show her that she wasn't alone. Show them that if they had something to say to her then they could say it to him as well. She tended to stick her foot in her mouth when she was nervous, and it was obvious, she was _very_ nervous tonight. He shuddered to picture her here by herself right now.

They probably would have tarred and feathered her.

Sliding her hand over, Emily placed it on top of Hotch's wrist, squeezing her thanks for his solidarity. She probably would have slunk out in embarrassment by now if she'd been alone. She rambled when she was nervous, and the more flubs she made tonight, the more her nerves were getting shot to hell.

But God! Who jokes about gunplay at a Lamaze class! That's just creepy! No wonder they all looked at her like she was a psycho. She wished she could curl up into a little ball. Instead she tucked herself back against Hotch's chest, feeling his arm wrapped around her and the warmth of his body against hers. It was a little weird. This was the most physical contact they'd ever had.

But . . . it was nice too. He was like a shield protecting her. In the field she had Kevlar for that, but apparently Hotch worked just as well. She mused . . . I wonder if he deflects bullets too.

She huffed slightly to herself . . . probably. He was like Superman.

Putting his chin on her shoulder, Hotch whispered in her ear, "maybe next week you can make a joke about strapping a bomb to your chest."

Feeling her body shake with laughter, his eyes crinkled and he gently patted her stomach before directing his attention to the teacher who was looking at them disapprovingly.

Apparently he'd used up all of the goodwill he'd accumulated simply by showing up.

But Hotch never was one to suffer other people's crap so he just stared her down too. Actually he gave her the nastiest glare in the arsenal because she was the one that was setting the tone for this little lynch mob. She herself had just commented on how nervous Emily was. But rather than smooth over her little flub, she'd let everyone treat her like crap. And it was obvious that Emily was embarrassed about she'd said, and still the teacher had said nothing on her behalf. He glowered at her.

Bitch.

As expected the woman immediately got flustered by his look and dropped her eyes. After clearing her throat a couple times she finally began the class.

About freaking time.

He and Emily had been the center of silent disapproving attention for at least a minute now. Like they thought it would just drive them off. Screw that! They were staying. Just for spite. Maybe next time he'd bring a couple grenades with him. Strap those on, see how they liked THAT!

Then he remembered this wasn't actually his class. He was only here for the one evening.

Damn.

He tried to focus back in on the teacher but she wasn't telling him anything he didn't already know. He'd done this just a couple years ago and he was pretty sure the baby birthing process hadn't changed much in the last ten thousand years, let alone the last four.

A few minutes later, as the teacher told the women to get into the first position there was a flurry of activity around the room as everyone changed places.

As she pulled her knees up and spread her legs apart, Emily turned her head towards Hotch, "okay, um, I didn't feel weird before about having you here, but now I feel kind of awkward."

She actually felt REALLY awkward. They might be friends now but he was still her boss and this was just weird boss employee behavior.

Settling back on his knees Hotch wrinkled his nose as he nodded, "yeah, I know what you mean."

The birthing position is such an intimate thing and Emily was such a private person. They both were, that's why, though he'd never told Haley, it had taken him awhile to get used to seeing her like that in the classes.

But Emily was already on edge, and they were both going to have to get over their hang up if they were going to do this. So he tried to break the tension.

Scrunching his brow he tilted his head slightly, "maybe it would be better if we switched places."

Giggling at the mental picture of Hotch spread out on the mat with his legs open, Emily started to feel some of the awkwardness melting away. Reaching over her head she patted his cheek, "thanks."

His eyes crinkled slightly, "no problem. Then his eyes traveled the length of her body and he slid his hand down her side, "like this Prentiss," he adjusted her hip, "you'll hurt your back otherwise."

It wasn't until after he'd pulled his hand back that he thought about what he'd just done. Hands on hips is major incursion into someone's personal space. But . . . he did just have his hand on her stomach. And that's pretty freaking personal too. And she didn't seem to mind, or think either touch was odd or inappropriate.

Okay then, he wouldn't think of it as odd either. They'd had a warm relationship in the past but he'd definitely say this pregnancy had moved them to a whole new level.

Emily gave him a smile of gratitude and then shifted her eyes to the front where the teacher was demonstrating the position, also pointing out what Hotch had just said about proper positioning of hips. Her eyes crinkled slightly, by helping her out he'd prevented her from _again_ looking like an idiot in front of everyone.

She felt his hand on her shoulder and she started chewing her lip . . . maybe . . . and then she shook her head slightly. Don't be stupid Emily. You can't ask your _boss_ to be your birthing coach! Even if it was just so she wouldn't have to go to the classes alone, that was still just . . . no.

Though, as she thought about it she didn't know what she was going to do here by herself next week. Obviously she was going to be a complete pariah from now on. And the point of taking the class this early in her pregnancy wasn't to learn the procedures, but so that she could make some connections . . . she started to feel a wave of sadness hitting her . . . make some friends.

But she'd screwed that up . . . it was obvious they hated her now. Even if Hotch did come with her, nobody else was going to talk to her.

She was the creepy gun lady.

And . . . her eyes started to burn as she looked to the front of the room . . . the teacher hated her too. She'd been really nice when she first came in but now she kept shooting glares at her as she went through the positions. So she wouldn't help her, or answer any of her questions.

God . . . the tears began pooling . . . why did she keep ending up completely alone in this?

Hotch felt the shuddering breath that went through Emily's body and he realized that she was trying not to cry. He leaned in to whisper worriedly, "what's the matter?"

She moved herself up and back against him so she could whisper back, "I want to leave."

Hotch's brow wrinkled . . . class was barely half over. But then he leaned his head around so he could see her face . . . and his heart broke for her.

She looked so sad.

He pressed his lips to her ear, "okay, let's go" and keeping his arm around her stomach, he helped her to her feet. And then he moved his arm up around her shoulders as they went over to get their things before they headed for the door.

The teacher didn't even try to stop them from leaving.

As he was stepping out he looked back to see the satisfied smirk she was giving him and he flipped her off. She looked so stunned that he almost laughed, but then he turned around to see Emily was staring at the tile floor with her arms wrapped around herself.

She had tears running down her face.

All thoughts of levity were gone as he put his hand on her shoulder and moved her a little further down the hall. The lights were off in the room next door so he guided her inside, shut the door and hit the lights. And then he stared at her for a moment before he pulled her against his chest. Running his hand up and down her back he just let cry.

He was starting to see . . . given his visceral reaction to seeing her upset . . . both now and earlier, that maybe he was starting to develop some feelings for Emily that he wasn't expecting. That would explain why he kept catching himself staring at her for no reason. And all the damn involuntary smiling. He shook his head slightly . . . okay, he'd deal with his issues later.

Right now . . . he pulled Emily in closer . . . he just wanted to think of something to say to make her feel better.

But as he thought about the reasons she'd wanted to attend that class, he could see now why she'd be so upset that it didn't work out. She desperately needed a support system. She needed to make friends with other pregnant women.

She needed to not be by herself. And all because of one unfortunate little joke, they'd treated her like crap.

He rested his head against hers . . . the poor thing.

Emily couldn't believe that she was crying on Hotch's shoulder. But he'd been so good to her, she didn't really think of him in the role as her boss anymore, he was her friend. And right about now she felt like he was the only friend she had. And as though he could read her mind, that's when he whispered in her ear.

"Those people were assholes. You don't want to make friends with them anyway. We'll find a better class."

It wasn't until the words were out of his mouth that Hotch realized that he was offering to go to her Lamaze classes with her.

Sniffling, Emily looked up at him, "thanks, but you don't have to come with me," she bit her lip before her voice cracked, "I'll be okay by myself."

Nice Em, that didn't sound pathetic at all.

Hotch patted her back.

"No, it's fine," he rolled his eyes slightly, "it's not like I'm doing anything special with my personal time. I can certainly spare an hour a week to keep you company. And I can go with you for now and then maybe later, after you tell people, then JJ or Garcia can go with you." He patted her back, "or you know, maybe Spencer would be interested."

As he'd hoped, the visual image of Reid attending a birthing class with her made her laugh.

Emily leaned back, half laughing, half sniffling. "Can you imagine his face if I asked?"

Hotch's eyes crinkled slightly before he sobered again. "And don't forget the pregnancy statistics you'll have to look forward to," he nodded firmly, "you probably are better off keeping this under wraps for now."

Huffing slightly, Emily stared up at Hotch for a moment.

"Thanks Hotch," she whispered.

He winked, "anytime."

And he realized that he really meant that. Emily was no longer just another member of the team. What these feelings were he had for her, he wasn't quite sure yet. But he realized that he felt . . . responsible for her.

And beyond just in the general sense he did for all of the members of his team.

He felt a dig in his gut as he looked down at her cleaning up her face. He knew that she was strong . . . she was actually was one of the strongest people that he knew . . . but at that moment she looked so small and vulnerable. And then his eyes dropped further down.

Her shirt was more fitted today, and though the bump still wasn't obvious, now that he'd felt it, he could see it.

Her baby.

It was just her and her baby. And she was trying to navigate this whole new world by herself.

He felt a flash of rage and in that moment he wanted to pound her ex into the pavement. Break his face again.

How could he leave her alone like this!

But then he shook his head slightly as he reigned in his temper, it was probably just as well though. Even if Matheson had shown a shred of moral fortitude and accepted responsibility for his child, it's not like a married man, that she rightfully hated, would make a good support system.

No . . . she gave him a watery smile and he squeezed her hand . . . he was basically all she had for the time being. And after what had happened tonight, he realized that was all right with him. Because he really didn't have anyone in his life he had a relationship with just because he enjoyed spending time with them. Yes, he knew Emily because of work, but it was clear that his affection for her had grown beyond those parameters. And as much as he loved his son, it was nice to care about someone else again too.

It was nice to care about a woman.

That was a part of him that he'd sealed off after Haley had left, so he supposed it was understandable that as soon as he let a woman back into his life that it would stir up some feelings.

But he certainly wasn't looking for any reciprocity from Emily. She'd had enough surprises lately. She really didn't need to know that her boss now had a bit of crush on her. He was sure that these feelings would pass soon enough. And then they would just be back to the friendship . . . he smiled at her . . . and that would be good too.

He opened the door, guiding Emily out with his other hand on the back of her neck.

"How about I buy you an ice cream on the way home?"

Emily looked up at him with a soft smile.

"How about I buy you one?"

It was in his nature to always pay for everything. It was part of his need to 'be a man and take care of things.' She huffed slightly to herself . . . he was the Anti Chris . . . with the exception of the black hair, Hotch was the polar opposite of her ex. But as much as she appreciated everything he was doing, she'd been trying to find ways to balance them out a little. And if he was going to insist on buying her lunch, then she wanted to see if occasionally she could get him to let her pay for some stuff too.

Even if it was just an ice cream cone.

Hotch's eyes crinkled as he looked down at her, "sounds even better. I just wrote my child support check yesterday so I'm a little light on cash. But now I can get a double scoop."

She chuckled as they started to walk down the hall, "I never agreed to that."

He shook his head sadly, "sorry Prentiss, but you made an open ended offer. You should have expected things could take this turn."

Huffing, she leaned slightly into his side, "fine, but next time I'm negotiating ice cream options before you pick your order."

His lips twitched and then he sobered as something suddenly occurred to him. He waited until they reached the elevators before he looked down at her, "I know this might seem an odd time to bring this up, but I was wondering if maybe you'd like to tell Dave about the baby."

He'd had this thought last month but given what had happened with class tonight he realized it was more important to start trying to expand her circle a little. Not that Dave had any baby experience or would have any desire to discuss morning sickness or anything else 'woman related' but he'd be good to her. And he'd be happy for her. And that's what Hotch wanted, somebody else to be happy for her. So that she could start really enjoying this pregnancy. Tonight's class wouldn't have been a make or break excursion if she had what those other women had.

People in their lives.

But, that wasn't an argument that was going to fly with her, so he knew he was going to have to just sell her on the logical rationale for doing it.

Tipping her head she looked up at him in confusion, "why?"

Hotch hit the elevator button and then looked back at her, "he's going to figure it out soon anyway. It's impossible to keep a secret from him. And us partnering up exclusively is not going to be a viable solution for the next three months. At some point a scenario will come up where we'll need to focus on different aspects of a case."

He could see her brow wrinkling and he sighed, "I know you're worried that the more people that know the more likely it's going to become common knowledge," he could see her about to raise her other objection and he put his hand up, "yes, but I also know that _specifically_ you're worried about the team treating you differently," she nodded and his eyes crinkled, "Emily, Dave thinks of you as a daughter. He already worries about you. I really don't think he's going to be any more protective after you tell him about the baby than he is right now."

Seeing that he was making some headway, Hotch tacked on his last good argument. "Plus, you know if I get called away, he's in charge, and I just think it would be good if he had all the facts if something did come up."

Chewing her lip, Emily stared at Hotch for a moment, thinking about what he'd said.

Maybe he was right.

A couple months had already passed and she was more . . . comfortable . . . with her situation now than she was when she'd gone to see Hotch. After that conversation in the car with Hotch her initial trepidation and embarrassment had started to slowly be pushed aside. And then she had started thinking of Baby as a real person.

Her child.

And she didn't want her child to ever think that its mother was ashamed of him or her. She knew what that was like.

Plus, Hotch made a good point about keeping secrets from Rossi. Dave had asked her more than once if she was feeling all right. And she'd started to notice he had a little worry line on his forehead every time he looked at her. She didn't want him to be concerned that maybe she was sick or there was something seriously wrong. That's the last thing she wanted, he'd been really good to her.

She looked back up at Hotch.

"You're right. We can't stay joined at the hip forever. And Rossi has been looking at me a little differently lately so he probably is going to figure it out soon," she nodded, "I'll tell him when we get back from Montana."

Hotch grinned, "I think you're definitely making the right choice."

He'd really thought she'd fight him a bit. But this was great!

The elevator doors opened and Emily shot Hotch a look. "You just want to drive around with a partner without fear that he or she is going to throw up on the dashboard again."

With a chuckle, Hotch guided Emily onto the elevator.

"Yes, your decision does come with some perks for me as well."

* * *

_A/N 2: I'm already doing 'oblivious to his feelings Hotch' elsewhere. And this IS supposed to be different so I decided to let him not be a boob. The man does study behavior for a living, it was only going to take him a couple weeks to figure out what his 'symptoms' meant. Emily on the other hand isn't being oblivious, she's not on the same page yet. As far as she's concerned Hotch has just become a good friend. But Hotch has the protective instinct thing happening to help focus his attentions. Not to mention his insight to himself about realizing that the moment he opened up his heart even a little bit that there was a possibility he was going to maybe kick up some other stuff. And because I did want Hotch to 'fall first' that's part of the reason that perhaps more of the story has thus far been coming from his point of view than hers. I tried to balance it but I know it was definitely a bit skewed. But it was kind of necessary to show his evolution in feelings as each chapter went along. Now, hopefully I'll be able to flesh out Emily herself a little more. And not just through his eyes._

_All in all now with this chapter I'm actually starting to feel more comfortable with the story. Writing a new universe is hard. You have to write in broad strokes and try to pull people in for a new plot, new characterizations, new interpersonal relationships. Set up all the key bits to show where we're going. But now most of that groundwork has been laid and I can focus more on the nitty and the gritty. So it was easier to do a balanced back and forth on their individual takes all through this chapter. Plus, now that their relationship is more personal and less formal, I could work in a little of the banter. Not quite what we get in Girl, but it's still early here._

_Hope you were happy with the face pounding of the ex. It was sad but really Hotch couldn't do it himself. "hey man beating me to a bloody pulp, aren't you my ex-girlfriend's boss at the FBI?" Yeah, that wasn't going to really fly. Not to say that there may not be an altercation at a later date, but it wasn't going to work for a random beat down. And yes, it was supposed to be BAD. That's why Hotch tacked on the "HARD." Really, would a simple black eye really even the scales with what he'd done? No. And you've probably noticed that this is a world where they often 'handle things,' on their own. That theme will be addressed at a later date.  
_

_I've never been to Lamaze so I kind of winged it on the stuff they'd cover in a first class. BUT I really did read an article that said it's thought to be helpful for first time mothers to start going in the first trimester so they can make friends with other pregnant women. I'd never heard that before but it does make sense. And it provided a nice little early bonding moment for them because initially I was thinking Lamaze wouldn't happen until third trimester._

_And I would totally have made the gun joke that Emily did and have been completely mortified afterwards. That's actually how it came to me, as soon as I had the nervous glances from their classmates I was thinking 'well what would I say?' Yeah, I'd say that . . . and then have to leave._

_Emily's poor sense of direction is not canon, though it may sound familiar because I have it in Girl. The only reason I carried it over here is because I needed for her and Hotch to get to the classroom at almost the same time._

_Feedback is always nice :) I have written the next chapter yet, the Montana trip, but I can tell you that Em will get a chance to step up and show off some of her 'badassery.' I know she's been more of a softer version of how I usually paint her but mostly they've been off duty and we've been catching up with at 'awkward moments.' Next we'll get to see her on the job again._

_Definite posting on Chances tomorrow though. It's the only thing I have done._


	6. Measure for Measure

**Author's Note**:

Real life: Good news, I have another chapter done AND my computer issues are all straightened out. Yay! But on the general news front, which is good for me and not so much for you, I start my new job Monday. And that means I'll have all those new job demands. I have no idea what that's going to do to my writing time but I'm thinking nothing good. So let's all look back at the salad days of regular updates fondly, because we're probably moving to hard times.

Fake life: This is a few days after the Lamaze class chapter. Post their interview at the prison. I know I was planning on being all disciplined and sticking to 2 chapters for each month but now this story has sort of run off on its own and I'm just going to let it go how it wants to go. I'm going to start adding her pregnancy month to these just as a guide (partly for myself because I have to keep looking back to see what I said in the last damn chapter).

* * *

_**Week 10**  
_

**Measure for Measure**

"You're making me dizzy."

Hotch stopped pacing to look across the small room . . . Emily was glaring at him. And given that the glare was a bit stronger than the one he'd been getting for the last hour, he figured an apology might be in order.

"Sorry."

With a slow exhale, Emily tried to push aside her irritation at the man in front of her.

"Just come sit down," she said softly as she patted the space next to her. Though Emily knew that Hotch paced when he was anxious, her nerves had already taken a beating today. So basically right now he was driving her nuts.

And that was on _top _of the fact that she'd been pissed at him since they left the prison.

Though . . . she sighed . . . she knew that being angry wasn't accomplishing anything but adding more tension to their already crappy evening. So she reminded herself that he meant well.

He was just being overprotective.

After staring at Emily for a second Hotch walked over and pushed himself up on the exam table. Biting his lip, his eyes dropped to the floor before he looked over at her asking, "are you still feeling okay?"

This was the third time he had asked her that question since they got to the hospital. And he had received the same look of irritation each time the words left his mouth.

Emily's jaw twitched but then she reminded herself . . . he meant well. He was just concerned. So rather than biting his head off, she took a breath and gave him a sad smile, "Hotch I'm fine. I don't know how many times I can you that. _I _wasn't injured," she gave a pointed nod down to the blood stains on his shirt, "you'rethe one that needs to be checked. You have a stab wound and a possible head injury."

As Emily watched him look away, shaking his head dismissively, all thoughts of her new non hostility agreement vanished and her blood pressure spiked again.

How could he be so careless about his own health?

With her jaw clenched, she started swinging her feet back and forth thinking about how it had come to this.

The interview had not gone well. Actually that's not quite right. To be more precise the interview had not _ended_ well. But they had a really productive morning. Willis was incredibly forthcoming with the details of his crimes. Not only had they compiled pages of useful notes, he had also made allusions to possible dump sites for additional victims. Not enough for a definitive 'x marks the spot' map to be drawn up, but certainly enough to put the dogs on the right track.

In retrospect his disclosures about other victims perhaps should have tipped them off earlier that something wasn't quite right. But it wasn't uncommon for killers to decide to confess to additional victims after they're incarcerated. Generally though that's if they're coming up on an execution date, or have passed the point of any viable appeal. And Willis did still have a due process appeal pending in the 9th Circuit. And given the way the courts had been ruling lately, he might have had a decent shot of getting a new trial. Though that's never a guarantee, it was enough for Hotch to at least comment during the break that it was a little odd that Willis had suddenly become this chatty when he still had one more appeal in the wind.

That errant thought was probably what had saved his life.

Because it turned out that the prison had failed to share some vital information with the BAU. Willis had been diagnosed with terminal lung cancer last month.

They gave him a year.

To most people, a year doesn't seem like much time at all. But when you're dying a slow death in a prison infirmary . . . it's an eternity.

Unfortunately she and Hotch discovered too late that was the reason why Willis had suddenly decided to be so cooperative with the BAU. Not only did he want to get full credit for the scope of his crimes, but their visit provided him with the prime opportunity to choose to go out on his own terms.

In a final blaze of perverted glory.

They broke for lunch at noon and she and Hotch were escorted to the guards' break room. She couldn't exactly lug a salad in with them but she definitely couldn't skip a mid-day meal either. It was possible they wouldn't get to have dinner until six or seven, and the trick to keeping her nausea under control was carefully balancing her food intake. So she had brought her standard crackers, a SoyJoy bar, and a packet of dried cranberries.

That was her new healthy 'on the go' lunch/snack. And to her amazement, she, the junk food queen, was starting to get used to it.

Hotch of course wasn't planning on eating anything, but Emily told him it wasn't good for him to skip meals either. So he rolled his eyes and got a granola bar out of the vending machine. He ate that with a cup of crappy prison coffee that she looked at enviously while she drank a can of flat ginger ale he'd almost tipped the machine over retrieving for her.

At one they reconvened in the interview room. Things went along well for another two hours.

And then the interview started to wind down and Willis began to get antsy and belligerent. Thus far he'd been courteous and well behaved. Well, of course that's courteous and well behaved by convicted felon standards. And given the guy last week who told her he'd like to cut out her tongue and serve it up to Hotch on a Kaiser roll with a side of spicy mustard, Willis was a charm school graduate.

Once Willis started getting twitchy, Hotch could see that they weren't going to get anything more productive out of him so he called it at 3:37. The two guards came in at 3:40 and removed the ankle shackle that was keeping Willis tethered to the table. Given it was such a lengthy interview, and that he had no history of unexplained violent outbursts (against adults) Hotch had not required full restraints. Simply keeping him locked to the table, which was locked to the floor, was sufficient for him.

Of course if they had known about the terminal diagnosis, they would have handled everything differently.

Because then they would have known what was coming.

Emily and Hotch were standing on the other side of the table waiting for Willis to be escorted out of the interview room. The guards followed the same procedure that they had followed at the lunch break . . . one released the ankle cuff and the other told Willis to stand and put his hands behind his back.

What the guards didn't know was that Willis had smuggled a shiv in with him after lunch. Hotch had had a niggling little sensation in the back of his head since he remembered the outstanding appeal. And as he folded that information in with the sudden change in mood and behavior, he started eyeing Willis suspiciously as they began the transfer. He still saw the shiv too late though.

And that was because everything suddenly started happening much too fast.

When Willis stood up he made like he was going to allow himself to be cuffed but then he suddenly turned, jamming the shiv into the guard's neck.

Arterial spray went everywhere.

The other guard was still rising up from the floor where he'd been undoing the shackle. And he was so surprised that things had just gone completely to shit that he wasn't able to get out of the way before Willis kicked him in the head.

He went down hard.

And then Willis looked at Hotch and Emily. Both of them had automatically reached for the guns that weren't there. Realizing how much worse things were about to get, Hotch shoved Emily away, screaming at her to hit the panic button. And then Hotch caught Willis just as he threw himself over the table, bloody shiv still in hand.

Emily hit the button just as Hotch's skull hit the concrete floor.

The impact briefly slowed Hotch's reaction time as Willis went for his neck. Fortunately though Hotch's training took over and he was able to buck up and flip him. He still got stabbed, but nowhere near a major artery.

After Emily called for help she ran back over, watching in terror as they grappled on the ground.

At that point she had no thoughts about her own safety, or her unborn child's, she was just thinking about Hotch. They had no weapons, there were already two men down and Hotch was clearly injured. But she couldn't just jump in, they were rolling.

But then Willis got on top again, pulling back his hand to take another stab with the makeshift knife. And that's when Emily was finally able to get into the fray.

She gave him a roundhouse kick right in the side of his head.

Even given the force behind it, Willis was too amped on adrenaline to drop like he should have . . . but he was momentarily stunned.

And that was enough for Hotch to get control.

He flipped him again, pinning him to the ground. Emily kicked the weapon out of his hand . . . and when she saw the blood spreading across Hotch's shirt . . . she became so enraged that she kicked Willis in the head for a second time.

That time he was knocked cold.

And that's when the guards burst in. It had only been about thirty seconds since she'd hit the button but it felt a hell of a lot longer. The only reason it had even taken as long as it had for reinforcements to arrive was because the immediate response team, the guards that should have been there instantaneously, were the two men covered in blood on the ground.

The first guard had bled out before they could even get one pressure bandage on him. Emily had tried her best to staunch the flow of blood until the nurse got there. But she'd known the whole time it would have taken a miracle to save him.

The spray had gone everywhere.

But still she kept trying, kept pleading with him to hold on for just a little while longer. Because all she kept looking at was his shiny gold wedding band.

And she knew that somebody was waiting for him to come home for dinner.

When the nurse ran in, Emily fell back on her haunches and watched the expression on the woman's face as she checked his vitals.

He was already gone.

Hotch helped her up off the ground and the nurse turned her attention to the other guard. He was still unconscious and after they got to the hospital it was determined that he had a subdural hematoma.

He was currently in surgery but things were looking good.

Willis had a concussion from the two blows to the head, but he'd live. And given the children he'd butchered, and the two sobbing wives Emily had seen in the hospital lobby, she was glad that he was getting the slow death and not the quick one. Cancer was a horrific disease. And for the first time in her life she had met someone who actually deserved all of the suffering that was coming his way.

But the reason that Emily was so pissed off at Hotch now was because he had refused any medical treatment. He said the stab wound was nothing and he was fine. Initially she had been flabbergasted at his behavior. But that had changed to downright astounded when he said that they were going to the hospital but only so that she could get checked out.

Her!

He was the one whose head slammed into the concrete floor. Repeatedly! And he was the one that got stabbed by a homemade knife covered with God knows what kind of filth. And the only reason they had to go to the hospital was so that SHE could get checked.

She'd been so mad she'd barely spoken three words to him since they left the prison.

Hence the scowl she was throwing at him right now. But then she saw him wince in pain and her expression immediately softened.

_Stupid, stubborn, ridiculous man._

She reached over to pick up his hand.

"Hotch would you _please . . ._ for me . . . let the doc check you out? You hit that cement really hard. You could have a concussion or a hairline fracture. And your wound needs to cleaned properly. We don't know where the hell he was keeping that knife."

It had stopped bleeding but Emily was worried about infection.

Hotch slowly dragged his eyes up off the floor and over to hers.

He could see the worry was now overriding the anger. And he didn't want to upset her . . . that's the last thing he wanted. He just wanted to make sure that she was okay, that the baby was okay. And her simple insistence that she was "fine" really wasn't sufficient to alleviate his fears on this front.

But maybe she had a point.

If nothing else he probably should get the stab wound cleaned out properly. Though he had been planning on doing it when they got back to the hotel, it probably would be better to just get it done now.

So with a squeeze of her fingers he nodded back.

"Okay," he responded softly, "I'll get checked." And seeing the obvious relief on her face, he quickly added, "but AFTER the doctor looks at you."

Emily was about to protest, but then she realized there was no point. It was obvious his primary, his _only_, concern was her status, so there was no way he was leaving the room before he knew that she was okay.

Which was really sweet . . . yet incredibly frustrating.

But as long as he agreed to be checked as well, that's all that mattered. So she nodded.

"All right," and then she gave him a hard look, "but you _swear_ that you'll let him look at you right after he's done with me."

His eyes crinkled slightly.

"Yes I pinky swear, cross my heart, that I will get checked out right after you."

Her lips twitched for a moment as the last of her irritation with him faded, "did anyone ever tell you that sometimes you're a real pain in the ass sir?"

He huffed slightly as his eyes dropped back to the ground.

"Yes, I've been told that before."

They both looked up as the exam room door suddenly opened. The doctor was looking down at the chart but then he looked up, stopping and blinking as he looked between the two of them.

They'd both forgotten their jackets at the prison and between Hotch's wound, and Emily's efforts to save the dead guard, they were both splattered with a fair amount of blood.

His eyes widened as he looked first at them and then back down to the chart.

"I'm sorry," he muttered in confusion, "am I in the right room? I'm doing a welfare check on an expectant mother," then he looked over at them worriedly, "have you two been checked out yet?"

Hotch shook his head.

"We haven't been checked but most of the blood isn't ours. He slipped his badge out of his pocket, holding it up, "there was an incident at the prison," he tipped his head towards Emily, "she's the expectant mother," he gave Emily a hard look, "and she DOES need to be checked."

Emily shot him back the same look.

"As does he," she looked over at the doctor, "there's no chart on him because he wouldn't sign in. But really doctor he does need to be looked at. He's got a stab wound on his left shoulder and he hit his head pretty hard on the concrete floor."

Jaw twitching in anger, Hotch glared at her for a moment. He knew what was going to happen now. And sure enough, the doctor's attention was immediately focused on him as he came over to shine the light in his eyes.

"No," Hotch turned away and ground out, "NO, check her first! She's pregnant."

The doctor started to get agitated, "agent, if you'd just . . ."

But Hotch cut him off again with a vehement, "NO! You check her and then you can check me."

Emily caught the doctor's eyes and gave him a shrug. Welcome to my world pal.

With a frustrated shake of his head the doctor stepped back.

"Okay, fine. We'll check Miss . . ."

And Hotch again cut him off with a frigid look and a matching tone.

"Agent. _Agent_ Prentiss."

It was on the God damn sheet. Emily was too angry about being dragged to the hospital to be cooperative in the waiting room so Hotch had filled it out, and he'd clearly written 'agent.' It always pissed him off when people talked to Emily and JJ like that. He got addressed by their title and she got addressed as 'miss.'

It was bullshit.

Emily's eyes crinkled at Hotch's obvious irritation at the doctor's method of addressing her. Again . . . sweet. But that subtle sexism was something that she had become accustomed to over the years. If it was a situation like this, where she knew the person didn't mean anything derogatory by it, she just let it go. But she had noticed that Hotch never did. He always corrected them. And he always did it in the same tone.

Like you'd just called his mother a whore.

And she saw the doctor, the kid really, he was probably only twenty-six or twenty-seven, jump slightly at Hotch's tone she squeezed Hotch's hand. And to her amusement . . . he squeezed back.

Stuttering slightly, the doctor murmured an apology to her before his eyes dropped down to their joined hands. He looked up at Hotch a little warily.

"Are you staying for the ultrasound, agent?"

It was clear to Emily that he'd prefer to not be dealing with Hotch any longer. Granted, Hotch was kind of scary sometimes, and he was definitely pretty cranky right now. Still though, there was no reason to chase him out of the room. Especially because she knew that his concern over her health was the precise reason that he was so cranky. So just after Hotch said "no" and pushed himself off the table, Emily immediately contradicted him while reaching out to grab his arm.

"Hotch wait," she looked over at the doctor, "are you doing anything besides the ultrasound?"

He shook his head.

"Not unless you're experiencing any particular symptoms. But according to the notes of the triage nurse it says you didn't suffer any physical trauma and you're not experiencing any pain, discomfort, or bleeding, correct?"

When she nodded her affirmation, he gave her a little smile.

"Then it sounds like you're probably just fine. So I think the ultrasound should be more than sufficient to remove any concerns about fetal distress."

Emily bit back a sigh. And that was because _she_ didn't have any concerns about fetal distress. _She_ knew her baby was fine. Hotch was the one that was freaking out! Which was why she thought it might be better if she let him stay so he could see for himself that there weren't any problems.

"You can stay," she said softly, her fingertips running down his arm, "and then you'll see that everything's okay."

His eyebrow went up as he looked down at her.

"You're sure?"

That actually would make him feel better. But he would never ask to stay in the room while she had a medical procedure done. Even if it was a non-invasive one.

Her lips curved in a soft smile.

"Yep, it's fine," and then one upside to this whole travesty of an afternoon came to her and her eyes crinkled, "besides, it'll be nice to have somebody else see Baby too."

That was one thing that did make her a little sad when she went to the obstetrician. Often the other women were there with a friend or their husband or partner. And she'd see them come out after their checkup and they'd be all excited. Sometimes they'd be carrying the little black and white pictures.

It would be fun to have that experience just once.

Hotch found himself involuntarily smiling back at her.

"Okay then," And then with a quick schooling of his features, he shot the doctor another slight scowl, "I'm staying."

He still hadn't forgiven the 'miss' thing.

With a pained smile the doctor nodded back a, "great," before shifting his attention back to Emily.

"Misssagent, if you could please lie down."

Mouth quivering at his mangled address, Emily let go of Hotch's arm and swung her legs up, scooting back on the exam table. Hotch shot her a quick grin as he walked around to the other side of the table.

He'd also caught the doctor's fumble.

As Hotch looked down at Emily he noticed that there wasn't any support for her head and he said drolly, "it's too bad we're not going to class tonight, then we'd have your precious pillow with us."

She chuckled before suddenly remembering something she'd meant to tell him.

"That reminds me, I found a class in Manassas that meets at eight on Tuesday nights," she looked up at him hopefully, "do you think that we could try that one next week?"

At first the idea of Hotch being her birthing coach was a little weird. But in the days since her God awful experience at the first class, she'd started kind of getting used to it. Well, as a quick fix to her problem anyway. She would still feel strange if he was actually in the delivery room with her. Even though they were friends now, that was a little too much personal exposure to show a man who was technically her boss. But for the time being she was just really relieved to have the company.

His eyes crinkled slightly.

"Sure," then he huffed, "and that will give us enough time to drop off our weapons first."

He was going to make damn sure this class experience went a hell of a lot better than the last one. If it was just a matter of her getting the process down that would be one thing. But the whole end game was for her to make friends so he was going to make sure absolutely nothing at all went wrong. So rule one, definitely NO weapons onsite! And he was also going to be nice and sociable even if it fricking _killed_ him. He couldn't take another night of her going home in tears.

Emily's cheeks got slightly warm as she gave him a little smile.

"Right, no guns. Speaking of which," she sat up and took off her holster, handing it to Hotch as she said ironically.

"I'd kind of like to not have a picture of my baby and a handgun."

Giving her a sympathetic look, Hotch rubbed her shoulder as she settled back. Then he looked over at the doctor setting things up.

Hotch hadn't been in the room for an ultrasound since Haley was pregnant. And obviously that was a very different experience for him personally. And though it felt a little strange being here for something so personal, he just wanted to make sure that Emily was okay. Everything had happened so fast at the prison that he hadn't even had a chance to stop and think about the baby until it was all over.

But he had of course been very conscious of Emily being in the room with him, and knowing if Willis killed him that she would be next.

So he'd discovered that his personal worries about her safety had actually helped to focus his attentions rather than distract him. In retrospect, that was a relief. At least he knew he could still work with her without compromising their safety. But as soon as Willis had been subdued, and Hotch had looked at her covered in the guard's blood, he'd started to panic.

He was fairly sure that she hadn't been hit, but the stress of the situation could have been enough to cause a problem. That's why he'd insisted on her getting checked even though he'd known she'd been pissed off at him for ignoring his own injuries.

But he never would have forgiven himself if it turned out something was wrong and she didn't know until it was too late.

So now Hotch watched as the doctor rolled the machine over and then lifted Emily's shirt to put the jelly on her stomach. Seeing her nose wrinkle, his eyes immediately crinkled in response.

"Cold?" He whispered.

"Yeah," she nodded, "it always feels weird."

And then seeing the doctor pick up the wand, her muscles clenched up. Though she'd already told Hotch that the baby was fine, she still got nervous when they got to the actual exam part. That little nagging part of her brain that worried there would be something wrong popped up and started whispering bad thoughts.

Hotch glanced over to see Emily's brow was pinched and he realized that she was getting anxious. But she'd mentioned to him that the exams always made her a little antsy and he had a pretty good understanding as to why that was. And even though he felt the exam was important, he started to feel guilty about upsetting her. So he grabbed the stool behind him and sat down by her head. He brushed her bangs back.

"Don't worry," he whispered in her ear, "I'm sure Baby's okay. You know I just like to be cautious. We'll see everything's fine and then I'll get checked out and we'll go to dinner," then he tried to distract her, "maybe I'll even let you get something that's bad for you."

Feeling some of her tension dissipate, Emily's eyes flicked over to Hotch's.

"French fries?"

His lips twitched, "we can split an order."

She smiled.

"Okay," then her gaze shifted down to the doctor who was fiddling with the controls. She watched as he turned and started running the wand over her stomach, pressing down just enough to make her tense up. Even though she knew he had to do that or he wouldn't see anything, she still had the instantaneous desire to kick him in the teeth.

Like he was hurting her baby.

But she reminded herself that her baby was safely floating in a sac of amniotic fluid. A little pressure from the wand wouldn't touch it. And then suddenly there was the image on the screen. Her eyes immediately burned and she grinned just as she had the first time.

Baby was still just a little peanut, but it was getting bigger all the time. In her excitement, she reached over to grab Hotch's hand.

"See! It's Baby!"

It really was so much better having somebody to share this with. Somebody besides the medical staff. Hotch was somebody who actually cared about the little life growing inside of her. He'd be happy for her.

Hotch turned to Emily with a little grin.

"Yes, I see. It is indeed Baby. Were we expecting someone else?"

When she laughed, he turned back to the monitor.

He remembered enough about Haley's pregnancy that he could still discern all the working parts on the screen. And when he saw the little heart beating in front of him, he was filled with that same warmth as when he'd felt that small bump under his hand. And all of those feelings for Emily that he'd been trying so hard to keep tamped down . . . they all came bubbling back up.

But this wasn't his baby.

He couldn't get attached to the two of them. Not like that. But still, he could see how happy she was. So despite his best efforts to stay emotionally distant from the moment he felt the warmth spread and he found himself smiling as he brushed back her bangs. The whole time he was desperately hoping that these feelings would start to go away soon.

The doctor chuckled at Hotch's comment, and then looked back at the image on the screen, checking for any abnormalities.

"Have you guys thought about any names yet?"

Seeing Hotch's eyes pop out, Emily bit down a chuckle.

The man had just been holding her hand while they discussed Lamaze classes. And he _was_ the one that was insisting (VERY emphatically) that she and the baby get checked. It wasn't a great leap to see where the doctor had deduced that he was the father. But rather than get into the whole thing, she just answered the question that was asked.

"No, no names," and then her amusement faded, along with her voice faded, "well, not really."

If it was a girl she thought she might name her after her sister. But she wasn't sure. Part of her really liked the idea. But she was just afraid that it might be too depressing. She figured she had a few months to think about it.

As he saw Emily's face fall, Hotch's brow wrinkled in concern as he whispered, "you okay?"

He'd been a little thrown by the doctor's assumption. It was like he was reading his thoughts, but now he was just worried about Emily. She looked . . . sad.

Taking a breath Emily looked over at Hotch and nodded, "yeah," then she directed her attention down to the doctor, "so everything's fine right? I was just at the doctor two weeks ago and she said was everything was going well."

The doctor turned with them with a smile, "yeah, everything looks good," he turned the machine off and went over to get a paper towel for Emily to wipe off her stomach.

Hotch helped Emily sit up and then looked back at the doctor, "so definitely no problems, no signs of distress?"

Shaking his head the doctor came back over and handed her the towel, "no, the baby looks good. We'll do one more check of your vitals and then we'll know for sure that all is well."

After checking Emily's heart rate, the doctor moved on to her blood pressure. He was quiet for a second as he listened before slowly letting the cuff deflate as he smiled, "yep, mom looks good too."

The nurse had already checked Emily's vitals during triage and said everything was normal then. Feeling vindicated Emily looked back up at Hotch, about to give him an 'I told you so' but he looked so relieved that she felt a stab of shame.

Why was she going to be a smart ass when he just was thinking of the well being of her and her child? And he was the only person that actually did give a crap about the two of them. Well, the two of them as a unit. So instead of saying what she was going to, she just took his hand and smiled softly, "okay, Baby and I have the all clear so it's your turn."

Hotch huffed, "okay."

A deal was a deal. And he actually did have a bit of a headache. If nothing else maybe he could get some damn Tylenol.

So he sat patiently while the doctor checked his pupils and then had him do some basic equilibrium tests. The doctor said everything seemed fine but he was still ordering an x-ray just to make sure, though he'd clean up his stab wound before he sent him down.

When the doctor headed out to get the nurse, Hotch started unbuttoning his shirt. And seeing the wince on his face as he tried to twist to get his sleeve off, Emily quickly hopped down off the table to go over and help him.

And as she stood between his legs, she leaned up to gently tug the material off his shoulder. Then she reached around to pull the shirt down his other arm.

When she stepped back . . . now holding his bloody shirt in her hand . . . her eyes began to water. Because now she was looking at his chest covered in just the formerly white t-shirt.

A shirt which was actually mostly crimson now rather than white.

God . . . her stomach churned . . . that was a lot of blood. Before she had been assuming that at least some of what was on the dress shirt, was, like her stained shirt, spray from the guard. But this was underneath his dress shirt.

This was all him.

And she bit her lip as her eyes snapped up to his face.

"You could have died today," she whispered.

Of course she had known that. That was a risk of their job. And even being in the mix of what had happened, knowing intellectually how lucky they both were not to have been seriously injured, the emotional impact of what had happened had just hit her.

Hotch got stabbed.

A few inches to the right and he'd be dead just like the guard. And she couldn't really imagine that.

Having to get on a plane and go home without him.

Hotch looked down at his shirt and then back to Emily blinking frantically as she tried not to cry.

God did he want to give her a hug . . . but he was covered in blood. Though his t-shirt was mostly dry, there were still tacky spots. So instead of the hug, he gave her a sad smile and reached over to squeeze her hand.

"But I didn't die," he whispered back, "and that's because you saved my ass."

Seriously, if Emily hadn't been in the room he could easily be lying in the morgue right now. The guards came in AFTER Emily had kicked Willis twice in the head and taken away his weapon. If Hotch hadn't taken the crack to the skull when he first went down he might have been able to get control of the situation more quickly himself. But he had admittedly been stunned for a second, and that's what had allowed him to get stabbed to begin with.

She really had saved his life.

But seeing that Emily's tears were about to spill over, he tried a joke to distract her.

"It's too bad we don't have a Pregnant Agent Monthly. You'd definitely be on the cover."

One tear ran down her face as she laughed.

"That would be quite the centerfold. You'd be unfolding for days."

His mouth quivered, and then he put his hand up to cover his laugh.

Seeing Hotch trying to hide his dimples, Emily was overwhelmed with a wave of affection for him. He was so cute sometimes. And that thought made her heart ache as she realized yet again that he could have so easily been the third body that day.

So completely ignoring his bloody shirt, she stepped between his legs and wrapping her arms around his neck.

For a second he didn't react and she started to feel self conscious. But then his arms encircled her and she sighed in relief as he pulled her closer.

"You're going to get blood on your shirt." He scolded gently.

She turned her face into his neck, breathing in his fading aftershave.

"My shirt was already bloody. It's going in the trash no matter what," then she slowly exhaled, "we had a bad day and I wanted a hug."

That was something she missed. Not Chris. Not really having a man in general, just . . . hugs.

Simple affection from someone you cared about.

People who had it took for granted. And people who didn't, well . . . she felt Hotch rub his hand down her back . . . they'd take it wherever they could get it.

Hotch knew that he shouldn't be doing this, holding her close . . . smelling her hair. These things were torture. It was bad enough when she was helping him with his shirt. But she had wanted a hug. What was going to be his rationale for denying her such a simple thing?

That it was unprofessional?

Please. He had just oohed and awed over her sonogram with her! He was her Lamaze coach for God's sake! A hug was nothing. It was something that men did after their sports teams won the playoffs. But as he felt her soft body in his arms, the playoffs definition was not the one that was coming to him. And he was just about to pull back . . . and possibly hurt her feelings in the process . . . when he was saved by the bell.

The doctor walked back into the room.

Emily immediately disentangled herself and turned around, though she was still standing directly in front of Hotch. She was delighted when he put his hand on her shoulder, gently rubbing her neck with his fingers.

That was affection too.

Then she started to feel somewhat pathetic.

Apparently she'd been starving for any human affection for sometime now. Even when she'd been with Chris, he wasn't particularly affectionate. Really, as she thought back, anything that he did was just a precursor for sex. He did like to have sex. Which was fortunately why she'd made sure to get an AIDS test that morning after the condom broke.

It honestly hadn't occurred to her that she could have gotten pregnant, she was just worried about disease. Thank God that had been her mindset though. Because if she'd had to wait for an AIDS test _after_ she'd found out that she was pregnant, she would have been going out of her mind.

Realizing she was getting off topic, she focused back in on what the doctor was saying.

He was telling Hotch that the wound would probably need a couple of stitches and they could do it with or without a local. Hotch of course opted to just suffer through the pain. She gave him a good natured eye roll.

Always the tough guy.

Just then the nurse walked in carrying a pair of scissors, and that's when Emily finally stepped completely out of the way.

She grabbed the stool Hotch had been sitting on, and rolled it over to the corner of the room, out of the way. Then she watched as the nurse cut away Hotch's bloody t-shirt. She winced when she saw his stab wound.

The edges looked ragged. It had been a crappy shiv, the edges weren't smooth. She just really hoped that he wouldn't get an infection. And given her worries, Emily was pleased to see that after the doctor was done irrigating the wound and closing him up, he gave Hotch a shot of antibiotics.

As the needle went into his arm, Hotch caught Emily's eyes across the room. And seeing the look of worry on her face, he winked at her.

She smiled.

And feeling another ache in his chest, he held her gaze for only a moment longer before he finally had to look away.

After the doctor gave him the shot he left them alone with the nurse. She quickly sponged the blood off his chest and back before helping him on with a scrub shirt. Both his t-shirt and his dress shirt were ruined.

As the nurse updated his chart he made a mental note to put in for reimbursement when he got home. His eyes flicked across the room . . . for Emily too.

Actually, he really didn't like seeing her in the bloody shirt. It wasn't soaked like his was, just some dried smears and splatter, but still . . . it was creepy. Seeing a pregnant woman in blood stained clothes is just upsetting. He looked down at the nurse.

"Do you have another shirt that Agent Prentiss could wear?"

The nurse looked over at Emily and smiled.

"Sure," then she went back to the supply cabinet and pulled one out from the bottom. After she'd passed that to Emily, she handed a piece of paper to Hotch.

"You need to go to X-ray, it's on the opposite end of the floor. When you go out in the hall just follow the purple line."

He nodded, "okay, thank you." And then he watched the nurse left the room. His gaze shifted over to see that Emily had stood up and was holding the scrub top in her hand. And that's when he realized that if she was going to change her shirt then he needed to turn around.

His gaze shifted to the sinks and a moment later Emily said, "okay I'm decent." When he turned back, he saw her in a smaller version of the same blue smock he was wearing. He walked over and took her bloody shirt out of her hands. Then he dumped it into the same hazmat bag they'd dumped his.

His expression softened as he looked at her.

"Feel better?"

"Yeah," she smiled, "thanks. The shirt was pretty gross."

They stared at each other for a moment and then he tipped his head towards the door, "do you want to wait in the cafeteria while I go to X-ray?"

She walked up to him with a little frown.

"How come I can't go with you?"

His nose wrinkled.

"You really should stay away from the X-ray area."

A soft smile touched her lips as she patted his arm.

"Well I wasn't going to go in the room with you. I'll just wait out in the hall."

Seeing Hotch was still making a face, she pouted.

"Come on Hotch, don't send me off to the cafeteria by myself. I'm sure there are signs up with big fat pregnant ladies and x's through them. I'll just avoid the areas where my big fat pregnant self isn't supposed to go."

Hotch's lips started to twitch as he shook his head at her. "You're not fat."

And Emily sighed as they started walking towards the door, "I will be soon enough."

So far she'd actually lost a little weight. But she figured that was part the vomiting and part the radical change in her diet. Not that she was in any way overweight before, but now that she had cut 97% of the fat and grease from her diet, clearly she was going to lose a little weight as a result.

Hotch caught up with her at the door, grabbing her hand as he said emphatically.

"You will be _pregnant_, NOT fat."

He would never understand women's obsession with their weight.

Her eyes crinkled slightly as she yanked the door open and looked back at him.

"Tomato/tomahto. I'll still be wearing pants with an elastic waist."

Hotch rolled his eyes as he put his hand on her shoulder and they started following the purple line down the hall.

* * *

_A/N 2: I am going to extend out this day but I have no idea how long it will take me to get the next scene written. Sooo I figure as long as I reached point where I could cut, I'd stop and post. If there were some elements to this chapter that seemed a little familiar from Girl, that was on purpose. Emily also helped him with his shirt in a chapter over there (though ironically she was helping him put it on) and the scene was very similar in description though Hotch's reaction was very different._

_It is interesting writing Hotch in this mode whereas Emily is still oblivious. Also, now that they're more affectionate and joking around a little it is a bit of a struggle to not fall into Girl mode. I don't want this to be a fluffy story. The goal is to keep it grounded in harder world. It's just hard to write lighter elements without lightening up the story itself._

_I thought about writing the prison part 'live' but it was an entire day of their lives that had to be covered. And it would have been boring to do a moment by moment for the whole day until the 'incident' so I decided as long as it had to be done partially in recap, I might as well just pick up from the hospital rather than the prison. I still got 7000 words out of it. As I said, writing is going to become a real problem which kind of sucks because I like this story and I have a clear idea for the next portion. So I'm going to see if I can plow out another rough draft before I start the new job. Cleaning stuff up is so much easier than writing from scratch._


	7. Shifting Winds

**Author's Note**: This baby's mammoth! Almost 10,000 words! The draft was only about 4500 but as I was cleaning it up they started talking more and the chapter ended up going in ways that I hadn't expected. But I think it works.

* * *

**_Week 10  
_**

**Shifting Winds**

After Hotch got his X-ray taken he was supposed to go right back to the exam room to wait for the doctor. But as he checked his watch he decided to make a detour first.

It was closing in on six o'clock and he knew that Emily hadn't eaten anything since noon. And though he was planning on picking up some dinner on the way back to the motel, God knew that was going to be at least probably another forty-five minutes. Seven hours between meals was much too long for a pregnant woman.

She needed to keep her blood sugar up.

As he stepped out of the X-ray area he spotted Emily sitting in the small waiting room just off the main corridor. She was reading a magazine. For a second he debated with himself as to whether or not he should tell her where he was going. But then he decided that she'd protest, telling him that she was fine and didn't need anything. So he decided to just leave her there for a couple minutes.

Then he turned, went back towards the staircase . . . and out the fire door. Once he was back down on the main level, he followed the signs for the cafeteria.

/*/*/*/*/*/

Apparently it was shift change, not to mention actually dinner time, because when he arrived the place was packed. But that was okay, he wasn't staying.

Though with the crowd it took him a few minutes to get through the line. And though he'd taken the stairs down, his afternoon's activities were starting to catch up with him. He really wasn't up for hiking the three flights back up.

All he really wanted to do was lie down.

So with a weary sigh he hit the button for the elevator. Then he leaned his shoulder against the wall . . . and waited.

/*/*/*/*/*/

Emily looked up when she saw Hotch come into the waiting room. Immediately dropping her magazine on the coffee table, she stood up with a relieved smile.

"Hey, I was starting to get worried about you. That took a long . . ."

And then she stopped talking as she noticed the bag in his hand. Her head tilted quizzically.

"What's that?"

Hotch walked over and held the bag out.

"I ran downstairs and got you a snack. You need to keep your energy up."

Emily stared at him for a moment, wanting to chastise him for running around like that. He did too much for her, and she most definitely didn't deserve it.

But he looked so tired that she didn't have the heart to give him even a token scolding. So instead she shifted the paper bag to her other hand, opened it up and poked her head down to look inside.

_. . . a snack pack of her favorite 100 calorie chocolate chip cookies_

_. . . a banana_

_. . . and a cup of tea_

Her eyes stung as she looked back up at him . . . sometimes he was just so sweet. The image was in complete juxtaposition with the total hard ass that everyone assumed she worked for. And she blinked away the moisture in her eyes, she gave him a soft smile.

"Thank you."

Feeling a blush begin to stain his cheeks, Hotch cleared his throat. His gaze shifted slightly over her shoulder.

"You're welcome."

This was the problem with having feelings for one of your agents. You end up doing things for her and then feeling like a fool.

As though everyone could see that he was a chump.

Though . . . he put his hand on her shoulder for the walk back down the hall . . . chump wasn't the right word. That implied that somehow Emily was taking advantage. She certainly wasn't, if anything she was always trying to get him to NOT worry so much, or do so much.

But he couldn't help it.

And he'd like to think that he'd be just as attentive even if this had been three years ago when he was a happily married man. But he knew that was crap. Because if he was still married, his behavior towards a single unmarried woman would be COMPLETELY inappropriate!

Like being in the room for her scan, that would have been a huge no, no. Not to mention the irony of the fact that if it _was_ three years ago, Emily would actually be pregnant at the same time as Haley. He knew that was all speculative what if, but still, it was kind of a strange picture in his brain.

And while he shook his head slightly to clear the image, he guided Emily back into their exam room. There he pulled down a fresh piece of paper onto the examination table. Then Emily opened her bag and took out the three items that he'd purchased. After she'd ripped the seal on the cookies, she went over to Hotch where he was perched on the stool.

"Hold out your hand," she instructed, "you need to eat too. You ate even less at lunch than I did."

Hotch could tell from the set of her jaw that she wasn't going to take no for an answer on this one. So his eyes crinkled slightly as he extended his arm.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me," she said with a smile while pouring a half dozen of the tiny cookies into his open palm, "you bought them."

Huffing slightly, Hotch popped one of the cookies into his mouth.

"Well, then, thank you for sharing."

She winked.

And after he was done with those, Emily gave him a sip of her tea and then made him eat the last couple bites of her banana, claiming she was feeling a little full.

That was crap, she was actually still starving. Really she just wanted to make sure that he ate something more substantive today than a granola bar and six slivers of Chips ahoy cookies.

It was fortunate though that Hotch had bought them the snack, because they did end up waiting almost an hour before the doctor came back in with the test results.

And as Hotch expected, there were no fractures . . . no brain bleeds. They'd spent an hour and a half waiting around the hospital just to be told what he already knew.

What a waste of time.

But then he looked over at Emily smiling right before she reached out to squeeze his hand.

"All clear for both of us."

That's when he realized that her worries about his health were probably the same as his were about hers. And he certainly didn't consider the hour spent waiting for her to be checked to be a waste of time, so he probably shouldn't feel that way about his own exam.

So his eyes crinkled slightly as he squeezed back.

"Yep, all clear."

They left the room still holding hands.

Hotch was past the point of that being a real distraction. And after one quick stop for Emily to go to the bathroom, they were ready to head back to the motel.

The prison had one of the secretaries drive their car over to the hospital and she'd dropped off their keys before they'd been called into the exam room. That was fortunate because it was freezing cold outside, not good weather to have to stand around waiting for a cab.

It was also fortunate that they had the car because that's where their coats were. Though it was late April and boiling hot back home, Montana still regularly got snow this time of year.

There had been flurries all day, though the snow didn't really seem to be sticking.

But as Hotch looked down now at Emily wrinkling her nose as she looked through the glass doors, he realized that they were only dressed in scrubs and it was about thirty degrees outside. He was just about to tell her to wait here while he got the car when she seemed to read his mind.

She looked up and shook her head.

"No, we're going together. The woman said she left it in the parking garage, Level B, spot 238, right by the elevators," she tapped on the glass, "and that right there across the street is Level B. It should only take a minute to find."

As much as she appreciated all that he did for her, she didn't want him waiting on her hand and foot. A couple minutes out in the cold air wasn't going to hurt her or the baby.

Knowing this one wasn't worth a debate . . . he was just trying to be nice . . . Hotch flashed Emily a quick grin before slipping his arm around her shoulders. And as he pushed the doors open, he pulled her against his side.

They both immediately shivered.

With the wind chill it was definitely colder than the thirty degrees that they were flashing on the televisions inside. And by the time they got to the car they were both shaking. Hotch unlocked the doors, and while Emily jumped in the front seat, he pulled their coats out of the back. After he'd dropped hers into her lap, he pulled on his own while hurrying around the front of the car.

He dropped into the front seat and slammed the door shut. For a minute he huffed on his fingers . . . trying to get them to bend again . . . before he slid the key into the ignition and turned on the heat.

Though she was still shivering herself when Emily looked over at Hotch she could see that the skin on his hands was white. With a faint sigh, she turned up the heat that still wasn't quite coming out yet.

"A few more minutes and it probably would be frostbite on your fingers. This really was a bad day."

Hotch was quiet for a moment, and then he started rubbing his hands together again.

"Well," he looked over at her, "neither one of us were seriously injured, so I think that maybe it was a . . ."

And he stopped, thinking about the dead guards. And then he finished with a slow exhale.

"Well, it wasn't a good day, but it was no anywhere as bad as it could have been."

As badly as he felt for the guards, it was all about taking care of your own. All that really mattered to him was that Emily hadn't been hurt. And he got away with a lump on his head and small hole in his shoulder. Both would heal in a few days.

All in all, they were damn lucky.

But given the day that they _did_ have, Hotch decided to grab a pizza for dinner. Emily had been really good about cutting out all of her crappy junk food so he figured a treat was in order. So while she waited in the car, he went in and grabbed her favorite . . . a medium bacon and pineapple pizza.

And of course a small side of French fries.

He'd already promised her the fries, but the pizza was a surprise though. When Emily was in the bathroom he asked the nurse at the desk for the name and address of a place close by and he'd ordered it before Emily came back out.

And as he saw the look on Emily's face when he walked out of the sub shop, he couldn't help but smile.

Emily was grinning from ear to ear as she exclaimed, "YOU BOUGHT PIZZA!"

With an amused chuckled, Hotch passed the box to her before he climbed into the car.

"Yes, I bought pizza. A treat for saving my ass today," he passed her the smaller plastic bag, "and here are the promised fries, plus drinks."

She put the bag on the floor by her feet and lifted the lid of the box, inhaling deeply before she leaned over and kissed Hotch's cheek, "thanks."

As she pulled back, her face began to get warm . . . she'd just kissed Hotch. For like, no reason! Well, pizza was the reason. But still . . . not the usual response to somebody handing you a pizza box. That would just be "thank you."

Her eyes shifted over to see his reaction . . . fumbling with his keys . . . and his face looked pink too.

Okay . . . she started to calm down a little . . . at least he wasn't mad. He was also a little embarrassed so that's good. That means if she just ignores it then he'll go along.

It took Hotch two tries to get the key into the ignition. He couldn't believe that Emily had just kissed him! Talk about completely throwing off his concentration! And it was a completely innocent kiss, still though, it was from her.

They were quiet for a little while as they drove along, and then Emily realized it was too quiet. And she didn't want things to be weird between them, especially over something like a little kiss on the cheek. Hotch was becoming a close friend. Given that he was the only one she'd shared the baby news with, he really had sort of become her closest friend.

Huh.

Her brow creased . . . was that true? Had Hotch somehow become her closest friend? That position used to be held by Derek. But once she'd found out she was pregnant she'd started pulling away from him. At first it was because she was so embarrassed about what had happened with Chris.

Also, some part of her was a little afraid of what Derek might have done to him.

But as the days passed, she started spending more personal time with Hotch . . . and then he started partnering them up more often. And pretty soon, Derek stopped being the first person that she turned to when she wanted to talk. Now if there was something on her mind, even if it wasn't baby related, she still saved it until her break time with Hotch.

There had been more than a few times over the past month and a half that Derek had asked if she wanted to get a beer, or go to a club with him and Garcia. But she of course had to decline. Each time feigning another errand that needed to be done after work.

She could tell after the fourth time she turned him down that he didn't quite believe her anymore. But she'd ignored the hurt look, pretending that it was just her imagination . . . even though she knew that it wasn't.

And after that he just stopped asking.

But it's not like she could tell him that she couldn't drink because she was pregnant. And if she'd stuck to just soda he would have noticed and commented and then she would have had to make up a lie. Something more substantive than just, "picking up my dry cleaning."

It was gradual . . . and most definitely accidental . . . but she had somehow cut Morgan cleanly from her personal life.

At that realization, Emily started to feel sad . . . and guilty. No matter how it had happened, it _had_ happened. And she knew that he was going to be terribly hurt when she did tell him about the pregnancy.

He wouldn't understand why she'd kept it from him for so long.

As Hotch pulled into the motel parking lot, Emily was feeling a sense of melancholy settle over her. Even the prospect of pizza and fries wasn't cheering her up. She'd completely cut herself off from one of her closest friends, and then somehow . . . replaced him.

_'Though,'_ she thought while sliding out of the passenger seat with the food in hand, _'Hotch and Derek really weren't interchangeable._ They were very different men. So no . . . she shook her head slightly . . . it wasn't the man that had been replaced.

It was the person that held a role of prominence in her life.

Hotch was now her go to person for everything.

And even though she was sad about the shift in her relationship with Morgan, she didn't regret for an instant the change in her relationship with Hotch. Those two things together were confusing, and she wasn't quite sure what they meant.

Seeing the expression on Emily's face as he took the food out of her hands, Hotch scrunched his brow. Then he looked down at her questioningly.

"What's wrong?"

Emily shook her head.

"Nothing," she said quietly as started down the walkway towards their rooms, "nothing at all."

Certainly nothing that she wanted to talk about, so her response was technically the truth.

For a moment Hotch stared after her Emily . . . he could tell from that look on her face that something was wrong. And he stood there for a second trying to think what that might be. But then he took note of the fact that the wind was picking up . . . Emily was holding her door open for him . . . and he was just standing there like an idiot holding their dinner.

_'Good one Aaron,'_ he thought with an internal eye roll.

And with that he hurried down the outside walkway and followed Emily into her motel room. A room he wasn't all that crazy about. He didn't like the locks on the doors. There were chains, but no deadbolts. But fortunately they were only there for the one night.

So hopefully they wouldn't be murdered in their sleep.

Still though, with that thought in mind . . . because safety was always his paramount concern . . . he watched as Emily turned the lock and set the chain before he even went over to place the food down on the desk.

When he turned back around, he could see that there was still something on her mind. His expression softened as he walked back over.

"Come on, tell me what's bothering you," He whispered softly as his fingers laced through hers.

Emily quickly pasted on a false smile as she shook her head again.

"Nothing, really, Hotch. I'm just um, tired I guess." Then she wrinkled her nose while quickly changing the subject. "And I feel kind of gross. I think I want to take a shower before we eat."

He stared at her for a moment before deciding that it wasn't right to push her if she didn't want to talk. Finally he nodded his agreement to what she'd said.

"Yeah, I want to change and clean up too. I'll come back in about ten minutes, okay?"

"Okay," she nodded, "sounds good."

After Hotch let go of her hand, Emily began to slip off her coat.

Some time apart to clean up would be good. It would give her a couple minutes to pull herself back together again.

Because if she continued to be mopey all evening . . . she went over to hang her coat in the close . . . Hotch was definitely going to notice.

Given that they had connecting rooms, rather than going back out into the cold, Hotch unlocked the internal door to get next door. Once there, he immediately began to strip.

His pants were filthy and he was still wearing the scrub top . . . both went right in the trash. And though he really wanted to take a shower, the doctor had just put on a clean dressing, and he figured it would probably be best to leave that alone for now. To let it heal.

So, rather than taking the shower he wanted, he just thoroughly scrubbed up at the sink.

Afterwards he put on fresh deodorant and aftershave to trick himself into feeling more refreshed. And then finally he changed into his t-shirt and sweats.

Even though he was still exhausted, and a little sore, he felt ten times better when he crossed back over into Emily's room. Her bathroom door was still shut so he decided to call Dave to let him know what had happened.

Hotch wasn't sure if the news of an incident at the prison would be big enough to get picked up by the wire, but given the lack of missed calls from the team, he doubted it had. He scrolled down to the R's, hit "Rossi," and waited while it rang three times before Dave picked up.

"Hey, it's me."

Rossi leaned back on his couch.

"Hey Aaron, how'd the interview go?"

And Hotch had his answer as to whether or not the story had gotten back east. He cleared his throat.

"Uh, not so great."

And then he proceeded to explain their day to Dave. After some expletives from Rossi, Hotch assured him that both he and Emily were fine. Then . . . hearing the bathroom door opening . . . he looked up.

But it was only open a crack.

And Emily, with her hair up in a towel, was leaning around the corner mouthing, "I forgot my clothes."

Still listening to Dave with one ear, Hotch went over and grabbed Emily's duffel off the floor and brought it to her.

Though he was trying to be a gentleman and not look right at her, when she reached her arm out he caught a glimpse of white towel and the bare expanse of her shoulder.

"Thanks," she whispered . . . and shut the door.

With an exaggerated eye roll, Hotch went over and flopped down on her bed. Now he was DEFINITELY only half listening to Dave's tirade about prison security.

_Great! Now he knew what she looked like in a towel!_

That was an image that he probably could have lived without. Granted, it was a very nice image, but just one more thing to keep him up nights.

Finally realizing that he was just wasting air time, he feigning exhaustion with Dave telling him that they'd be home late tomorrow. Possibly stopping into the office, possibly not. It was a long flight and it depended on what time they landed.

And then he hung up.

He was pretty sure that Dave was still talking but Hotch was too tired to listen. And though he was also starving, he didn't want to eat dinner without Emily, so just went over to grab a few of the fries before they got cold. Then he flipped on the news . . . realized he wasn't up to seeing the grieving widows again . . . and kept going up the channels until he got to Turner Classics.

His lip quirked up . . . The Maltese Falcon, and it was just starting

Okay . . . he settled back on the bed with a sigh . . . he felt like shit, but now he had a very pretty girl to sit and watch Humphrey Bogart with while they ate pizza.

He fluffed the pillow slightly.

That sounded like a good end to crappy day.

/*/*/*/*/*/

Emily had a bitch of a time getting the snarls out of her hair so it was at least five minutes from the point that Hotch handed her her bag before she actually went back into the motel room.

She stepped out of the bathroom to find Hotch sound asleep on the bed and Humphrey Bogart on the screen.

The pizza was still sitting where Hotch had left it earlier. Her eyes crinkled . . . he waited for her.

Biting her lip she stood there trying to decide if she should wake him up to eat while the food was hot. Her face softened as she stared at him for a moment . . . he looked so tired. And they had a hell of a day.

She decided to let him sleep.

Besides . . . she nodded to herself as she went over to the desk . . . it was pizza. Pizza was just fine cold. Not that she could be as chivalrous as he had been though. She couldn't wait for him to wake up, she was starving. So she sat at the foot of the bed watching one of her favorite movies with her all time favorite actor as she ate the fries that he had left her and two slices of pizza. She washed it all down with her caffeine free diet coke.

With the exception of the drink, it was the greasiest most fattening dinner she'd eaten in over a month . . . and she savored every artery clogging bite. God knows the next time she'd be allowed pizza and French fries.

Her lips twitched slightly as she took a drink from her diet coke . . . 'allowed.'

Even though Hotch _technically_ couldn't order her to eat healthy, somehow that's still what happened. But she was actually grateful for his intervention on that front. Not only had he brought something to her attention that would keep her and the baby healthier, but it was also nice just to know that somebody cared.

After all . . . her eyes suddenly began to sting . . . nobody else did. That's what she kept thinking in the shower. Morgan had been her closest friend on the team and she'd cut herself off from him. Who else really cared about her now? Knew what was going on in her life?

Just Hotch.

She carefully slid back on the mattress, turning to lie on her side facing him. They were only a few inches apart. Blinking back the tears she reached over to gently brush her fingers through his hair.

He was all she had . . . and she didn't even really have him.

Huffing to herself she rolled onto her back . . . though he'd already shown more concern for her and the baby than Chris ever had. She'd never told Hotch what had happened that night she'd told Chris she was pregnant. And she hoped it would never come up.

Things got . . . out of hand. After the screaming and exchanging of insults, he'd grabbed her arm and shaken her, telling her she had to abort the kid because he had no intention of paying the next eighteen years for a mistake.

The grip he had on her was one that she'd experienced before. Not with him of course, he'd never laid a hand on her prior to that night. But she still knew there were bruises coming. The first time somebody had grabbed her like that she'd been twenty four years old and she ended up losing the next thirty six hours of her life to unimaginable pain and suffering.

So beyond just her rage at being violently grabbed like that by anyone, her reflex reaction now to being touched in that way was visceral. Based on pure survival instinct. She'd kicked him in the balls, and when he doubled over in pain, releasing his grip, she'd pulled her weapon and knocked him to the ground. With one foot on his crotch, she'd shoved the gun in his throat as she told him that if he ever touched her like that again it would be the last thing that he did. His eyes were wide with fear and pain as he'd stuttered an apology. An apology which she told him to shove up his ass before informing him that he didn't have to worry about child support because as far as she was concerned, the baby had no father. For the next two weeks she made sure to wear long sleeves so nobody would see the welts on her arm.

Because she knew if Hotch, or really any of the guys saw those marks, that one of them would finish what she'd started.

With a sigh she put Chris out of her mind as she turned to plump the pillows up before leaning back and spreading her travel blanket across her chest. Then she settled in to watch one tough guy onscreen as she waited for the one next to her to wake up.

/*/*/*/*/*/

Hotch awoke to find a familiar scent in his nostrils . . . Emily's shampoo.

But the scent was much stronger than he was used to.

And when he opened his eyes he realized why that was . . . he was lying flat on his back and Emily was lying on top of his chest. For a second he froze, momentarily panicked thinking that he'd done something really stupid. But then he remembered.

Humphrey Bogart.

He'd fallen asleep watching The Maltese Falcon. And his ears clued him in to the fact that Humphrey was indeed still on the screen so he knew that probably less than an hour had passed. His eyes took in the partly open pizza box and he deduced that Emily ate and then fell asleep while she was watching the movie.

Just like he did.

The difference being of course that she fell asleep and then rolled on top of him. That might possibly have been why he woke up. Because truth be told, he was still pretty exhausted so he didn't see him waking up on his own that quickly.

Now of course, he really needed her to NOT be lying on top of him. Because she was soft and warm and she smelled really, _really_ good.

Actually, as he thought about it those were all reasons in FAVOR of keeping her on top of him. But she didn't have the same feelings for him that he did for her, so this was really just another form of torture.

He tried to slide out from underneath her without waking her up.

Easier said than done.

As soon as he started to shimmy to the right, she moved further up his body, wrapping her arm around his neck as she nuzzled his neck.

Taking a deep breath he sent up a silent, sarcastic prayer of thanks. Then he lay there for a moment feeling her warm breath tickling his throat. The anxiety about the situation started to fade as a sense of calm came over him.

This was the first time he'd felt at peace in months. Since before Haley left. And probably long before that actually. They'd been fighting so much those last days of their marriage, that with the exception of time spent with Jack, he didn't have much in the way of happy memories to call upon for most of the past two years.

With his fingers ghosting over Emily's back, he took slow even breaths, thinking again about the situation as he tried to remember why this was such a bad idea.

Yes, it would generally be considered inappropriate to be in this position with one of his female agents. But again he'd decided they were long past that word holding any meaning in their professional lives. Their friendship had moved them beyond that point. Of course they still had personal boundaries, but those were the usual man/woman personal boundaries.

And because of those boundaries he was very careful to keep his hand on the middle of her back. Even if it was an accidental touch elsewhere he'd still feel sleazy about it.

Any decent man knows, hands stay above the waist and below the chest unless permission is given. And given that she was sleeping, and that they didn't (presently – a little traitorous part of his brain piped up) have that kind of intimacy in their relationship, obviously there was no permission implied or forthcoming.

So the issue of 'bad touching' was addressed. And beyond that, they were both fully dressed and on top of the covers. She'd fallen asleep and rolled over. Really, it was all very innocent. And he was still so very tired.

His eyes felt gritty and he knew that he needed more sleep now. And some little part of his brain reminded him, the traitorous part again, that this was the first time he'd felt this kind of peace in years.

And this might be the only opportunity he'd ever have to hold her like this.

So he shut down all the other little voices in his brain that were telling him to wake her up. Instead he just tipped his head over to hers, wrapped his arm around her back . . . and closed his eyes again.

/*/*/*/*/*/

Emily shivered just as her eyes popped open.

Why was she so cold?

Then she remembered that she forgot to dry her hair before she lay down to watch tv. And it was still snow weather in Montana and she was only wearing her t-shirt and pajama pants.

Though . . . her brow wrinkled . . . she wasn't quite as cold as she should be and that's because she was lying on top of something warm.

Her eyes widened.

_Oh crap! She was lying on top of Hotch!_

Now cringing, she shifted her gaze up slightly to see if he was awake.

Oh thank God, she thought with a sigh of relief, still sound asleep. That would have been SO embarrassing! He was the one that was laying on the bed first. She had admittedly climbed up just so she could sit with him, but she'd totally invaded his personal space.

And she was about to push herself up when she realized that his arm was wrapped around her waist.

Pushing aside her embarrassment about what she'd done, she stopped moving and simply took note of her situation. She was lying on top of a very sweet man and he had his arm around her. Granted he was her boss, but that wasn't really an issue between them anymore.

No, the "issue" was that just a few hours ago she'd hugged him like a pathetic little orphan child because she was so starved for human affection. And he'd hugged her back . . . and then rubbed her shoulder.

And now here she was, spread out on top of the same man. A man who had his arms wrapped around her, and she was about to get up.

Why?

They were just sleeping. For God's sake she was pressed against him for Lamaze class, so it wasn't like they hadn't been this up close and personal before. And Hotch was one of the few men in her life that she trusted completely. The idea of him taking advantage of a situation like this was laughable.

So she decided not to get up. They'd had a hellish afternoon and it was nice to just have this connection with him. But that didn't change the fact that she had woken up because she was cold.

Her hair had mostly dried but she had the chills.

Then her gaze caught on her blanket hanging off the bed, and she snagged it with one hand. After quietly shaking it out, she pulled it over her head and shoulders.

It was big enough to fall like a curtain around Hotch as well.

And when she looked up to see if he had stirred, there was something about the softness of his expression that made her stare at him for a moment.

He'd been so good to her. Looking after her like nobody else ever had. So in thanks she leaned up to kiss his cheek and brush back his hair.

After their mutual embarrassment in the car she thought it was kind of sad that this might be her only chance to say thank you like that. And when she put her head back down on his chest, she felt his arm tighten around her waist.

The action was probably involuntary.

Suddenly she felt an ache of loneliness and depression. It would come to her at the oddest times. And she really wished that there was a pill to make that go away. But . . . she huffed humorlessly to herself . . . even there was such a pill she wouldn't be allowed to have it while she was pregnant.

Pregnant.

It was just her and her baby. Though . . . she ran her fingers along Hotch's jaw . . . that wasn't quite accurate, was it? Hotch was certainly there for her in ways that he hadn't been before.

In ways that she hadn't expected.

She buried her face in his neck, smelling his aftershave and feeling his warmth take away the chills. It was really nice . . . she closed her eyes again . . . too bad she couldn't sleep like this more often.

Suddenly she felt Hotch's hand rub her back. Then he asked in a gravelly voice, "are you cold?"

Hotch had decided, given the blanket that he could feel on top of them, Emily must have also woken up, realized that they were entangled and decided she too was okay with the sleeping arrangement. Therefore, he wasn't going to feel strange about it.

No, it was feeling her cold cheek against his skin, that made him aware that she was awake. And now he was just worried about her getting sick.

Surprised that he was awake, Emily stared at a mark on his neck for a moment and then realized it was a bruise from the earlier fight with Willis. Then she decided to answer him in the same tone he'd asked the question.

If he wasn't going to make this an occasion worthy of note then she wasn't going to either.

"Yeah," she nodded slightly, her cheek brushing against his t-shirt as she whispered back, "well I was, but I just grabbed the blanket."

Hotch's eyes closed again.

"That's not going to be warm enough," he murmured, "it's winter here."

Crap. They were going to have to get up.

So without another word he rolled Emily off of him, sat up, and rubbed his hands down his face.

At first Emily was embarrassed . . . he didn't want her sleeping with him. And feeling the blush start to climb her cheeks she mumbled, "I'm sorry," as she turned to get off the bed. But then she stopped as Hotch touched her arm.

"I can stay, or I can sleep in my own room. Your choice."

His voice was soft . . . hesitant. And her teeth sunk into her lip when she turned to look at him . . . but he wouldn't look at her.

He was just staring at the carpet.

So she reached over, gently grasping his fingers as she responded in the same tone.

"I wish you'd stay. I . . ." her eyes started to burn and she stammered, "I get lonely sometimes."

That was the first time she'd ever told anyone that. In actuality it was a lie though. She was lonely all the time.

Every damn day.

Slowly dragging his eyes up from the floor, Hotch brought his gaze to hers. And seeing the tears in her eyes, his heart clenched as he gave her a sad smile.

"Me too."

As she squeezed his fingers, Emily asked hesitantly, "so you don't mind if I steal the blankets?"

Pushing down the ache in his chest, he met her gaze as he slowly shook his head.

"No . . . no I don't."

That hadn't occurred to him. That they might have sought each other out for the same reasons. They were two lonely people. So even if her reasons for wanting the connection with him were different than his were with her, it didn't make them any less valid.

Either way though . . . he stared into her dark brown eyes rimmed with sadness . . . if this was something that would make her feel better, then that was enough for him.

Emily's face brightened slightly as she pushed herself off the bed, "okay then."

Hotch had just given her permission to sleep with him. First a hug and now this. She was going to get spoiled.

God . . . she felt a pang in her gut . . . she was pathetic.

But there was nothing she could do about that. And he would never have any idea how much it meant to her to not have to be alone for just one night.

They both pulled back the covers and she climbed back into bed. Taking note of his rumbling stomach, Hotch went over to grab a slice of pizza. And as he stood there slowly chewing and swallowing he made sure that he really knew what he was doing.

Climbing under the covers with Emily. He wasn't worried about any inappropriate physiological reactions, they were both dressed in t-shirts and sweats. Though he was attracted to her he wasn't a fifteen year old boy. No, really it was the emotional implications he was making sure he'd accepted.

Whatever this was to him, it was something different to her. He nodded to himself . . . that was okay though.

After he'd turned off the lamps, he climbed into bed with her. Oddly enough it didn't even feel strange. And though he still had the ache in his chest, because he knew this was just an illusion of happiness, it wasn't as bad as he might have thought.

Because an illusion was better than nothing at all. And that's really all he had in his life . . . nothing. Just a few hours of light with Jack on the weekends. Otherwise just a world filled with pain, blood and violence.

For almost a minute they lay stiffly next to one another. . . and then Hotch realized how ridiculous they were being. They'd known each other for three years, they sometimes held hands, touched each other's faces. Hell, she kissed him on the cheek a couple hours ago. So he knew that their bodies were already acclimated to each others' presence. They'd gravitated towards one another when they were sleeping. And if they both fell asleep at that moment the exact same thing would happen again. So with that thought in mind he simply lifted his arm up and a moment later she slid over and curled into his side, sliding her hand up slightly so it was over his chest.

Emily spread her palm out . . . she could feel his heart beating . . . it was going too fast.

Her expression softened as she realized then that he was nervous. That made her feel better because she was nervous too. This was something that they hadn't done before. Sleeping with someone, even in the manner that the way that they were doing it . . . that was a way to make a personal connection.

It was intimate.

Emily's eyes crinkled as Hotch pulled up the blankets around her.

But him doing things like that was exactly _why_ she wanted this connection with him. She was starting to become a little confused about Hotch's role in her life. About her feelings for him. But she also knew that he was all that she had in the way of emotional support. And this was probably a good way to strengthen that bond with him.

She let out a soft sigh as she rubbed her cheek on his t-shirt . . . but that was all bullshit though.

Really, she just wanted to sleep with him because she was lonely.

Hotch pulled Emily more tightly against him, running his fingers along the bare skin on her forearm. He had decided, in for a penny, in for a pound. Though he was still tired, he at least wanted to enjoy this for a few minutes so he looked up the television again. Another old noire movie.

_Laura._

It must be theme night. His musings were interrupted by Emily's whisper, "I love this movie."

Hotch's eyes crinkled.

"Yeah, it's pretty good. I like Dana Andrews."

She grinned against his chest.

"Of course, strong silent type with zero desire to make nice, he just wants to get the job done and doesn't care who he pisses off in the process."

Lips twitching, Hotch's gaze shifted down to her.

"Are you trying to imply something Agent Prentiss?"

She looked up innocently, "of course not sir."

Huffing he shifted his eyes back to the screen, "didn't think so."

They watched the movie in silence for a little while, almost a half an hour, and just as Hotch was starting to drift off he heard Emily say softly.

"Thank you."

Blinking twice to wake up again, he looked down at her as he whispered back, "for what?"

"Everything," her fingers slid across his chest, "for this. Staying with me when you could have just gone back to your own room." Her eyes started to water, "I lied to you before. I'm not just lonely sometimes, I'm lonely all the _time_!"

The last word came out as a sob. And when her voice broke . . . it also broke the dam inside of her.

"And I'm scared," she continued with a sniffle, "I don't know if I can do this by myself. I'm afraid of being a bad mother. I'm afraid that my child will grow to resent me like I do my mother. Or . . ." the tears began to run down her face, "that there will be another accident and I'll become my mother."

Now wide awake, and his heart breaking for her, Hotch rolled slightly and pulled Emily into his arms. She was crying into his chest.

"Emily," he whispered, "I don't know everything that happened in your family, but I can tell you, those are all normal fears. I worry all the time that I'm not a good father, that maybe Jack will hate me because of the divorce, or because I travel so much," he swallowed, "or God forbid that something might happen to him. But it's just part of the package." He rubbed his hand down her back, "there are so many other good things to look forward to. When they smile at you for the first time, or take their first step, say their first word. Trust me, all of the good, after Baby's born, it will outweigh all of the bad."

She started sniffling again, and then she looked up at him.

"Really?"

Staring at her tear streaked face, Hotch wanted so badly to kiss her. To try to take away her pain. But he didn't, instead he just wiped his thumb along the edge of her eye as he continued softly.

"I promise. It's just scarier now because you're still waiting on the rest of it. But all the good stuff is coming, just be patient and keep a good thought," he kissed the top of her head, "and just remember, you're not alone,"

He paused for a moment, thinking about how much he was willing to share of himself. How much he could share without revealing his feelings for her. But then he decided that maybe the little voice in his head was right. Maybe, if he was lucky, it might someday be possible to have a different kind of relationship with Emily. But that was never going to happen if he didn't at least start putting himself out there. After what happened with Haley, what she did, sharing his feelings with someone was terrifying. But if he had any hope of changing things between them, Emily would have to know what she was getting into.

He was a mess.

But mess or not, he was starting to see that these feelings weren't just going to go away. He was falling in love with her. And you don't just stop falling in love with someone. It doesn't work like that. You can fall out of love later, but once you start to fall, you fall all the way before there's any possibility of your feelings changing again. And that meant he was either going to have to spend God knows how many months, or years, being her friend and loving her from afar. Or he was going to have take a shot at maybe finding a way to reach her.

He decided to take the shot.

Even rejection couldn't be any worse than what his life was now.

Decision made, he cleared his throat . . . and jumped off the cliff.

"I've been lonely since the divorce. I don't know what to do with my life. I love my son more than anything, but I know I can't build my entire happiness around him. It's not fair to put so much on a little boy's shoulders. I'd smother him and then he really will grow to resent me. And I don't know what I would do if that happened because he's all I have left."

Those were probably the hardest words he'd ever had to say. Because he'd just bared his soul and he didn't know what she would do.

Emily wiped her hand across her face as she looked up at him in wonder. She hadn't expected that.

Her face darkened as her own confession came.

"I blame myself for my sister's death. I carry that grief and that guilt every day of my life. My mother had forbidden her from going to the prom because she didn't like the boy Melanie was dating. So I took Mel shopping and paid for her dress. And then I lied to my parents and said she was staying with me at Princeton that whole weekend. But actually I'd flown down and taken a room at a hotel. She got ready there and I gave her a kiss on the cheek and I told her she looked beautiful, and then I sent her off to her dance."

Her eyes dropped down as her voice cracked.

"That was the last time I ever saw her. A drunk driver hit their limo on the way home. The limo driver and four of the kids died at the scene, one died on the way to the hospital. The sixth boy, my sister's boyfriend, he suffered a massive brain injury. He lived for ten years as a vegetable before dying of an infection from a bed sore. Melanie was one of the ones killed instantly," her eyes started to burn again, "but she never would have been there if we'd just done what my mother had said to do. It was my fault she died and my mother has never forgiven me for that," she wiped the corner of her eye, "I've never forgiven myself for that."

She'd never told anyone that story before. And she certainly hadn't planned to tell Hotch tonight. Or ever. But after he'd said what he had, she'd had this overwhelming urge to unburden her own soul with the hopes that maybe he would understand her pain.

And then maybe it would lessen her guilt.

Because she didn't want to be a bad mom, and she was worried that all of these things that she carried with her had screwed her up so badly that her child wouldn't have a chance at a normal life.

After all it wasn't like she was walking around worrying about stealing a candy bar when she was seven. She'd killed her sister and then been gang raped when she was twenty four.

To put it mildly . . . those were the kinds of scars that ran deep.

Hotch stared at Emily for a moment, he'd always wondered how her sister had died. But he had not expected her to tell it to him today. That explained a lot though. That cloud that she carried with her.

And her problems with her mother.

He ran his thumb along her cheek as he said sadly.

"Emily, that wasn't your fault. That was the drunk's fault. Even if you hadn't given her the money, isn't it likely that your sister would have snuck out and gone to the prom anyway?"

After a moment's contemplation, Emily nodded slowly.

"I suppose. My mother was rather controlling and we both had been sneaking out since we were 13." Then she shook her head, "but Hotch, that's not what happened. I gave her the money. I helped her get ready. I _did_ those things."

He shook his head, trying to be as gentle as possible. It was obvious how fragile she was at that moment.

"But Emily, you don't know that your sister would still be alive today even if you hadn't done those things. You admit that she could have snuck out on her own. Your mother could have changed her mind, maybe your dad could have talked her into letting her go. So many things could have happened," his face softened, "you can't keep blaming yourself for an accident that you didn't cause. You were just one piece of the puzzle. By your reasoning then all of those other parents of the kids in the limo should still be blaming themselves for their children's deaths too," he picked up her hand, "do you think that would be right? Should they feel guilty for letting their children attend their prom?"

Her gaze dropped as she said softly.

"No, no I suppose not."

How was it that Hotch was able to show things to her in new ways? Ways that she actually paid attention to and made her feel better. She looked back up at him.

Now she wanted to talk to him about so many things. To see what he thought. To see if he could give her a new perspective. To tell her when she was right, or when she was wrong.

But he looked so tired.

And it was probably too soon for that anyway. Tonight was the most she'd ever shared with anyone, about her past. And she knew how much it had taken for him to disclose something so personal with her as his feelings about the direction of his life and his worries about his son.

So she reached up and cupped his jaw.

"Do you think maybe we could do this again sometime?"

He gave her a sad smile, "anytime you want."

Given what was in her file, he had a feeling he already knew what else she wanted to talk about. God only knows what baggage she was carrying around from that day. He winced internally . . . days.

Emily's eyes crinkled slightly.

"Good," she put her head down on his chest again before she murmured, "you always make me feel better."

Hotch ran his fingers through her hair, thinking about maybe going out a little more on his limb and then he whispered back, "just being with you makes me feel better."

There, he'd said it. Now she'd either freeze and shove him out of the bed, or . . . she wouldn't.

Emily's breath caught for a moment, suddenly understanding what he was saying. Or really, what he wasn't saying. And she understood that he wasn't asking anything of her.

Just letting her know . . . things had changed.

But she didn't know if they had changed that much yet for her as well.

The one thing she did know was that she didn't want to leave him hanging out there. So using his chest for leverage, she leaned up, looking down at him with a soft smile before she pressed her lips to his cheek. After giving him a soft kiss she pressed her lips to his ear.

"I'll have to think about it."

And then she moved up his body, wrapped her arm around his neck and snuggled in tight.

A moment later she felt his arm wrap around her waist and he kissed her forehead.

"You take as much time as you need," he whispered back, "no matter what you decide, I'll be here for you either way."

Hotch slowly exhaled, feeling that ache in his chest lessen slightly. Her words were more than he had hoped for. But he didn't want to dwell on it anymore. The ball was in her court. So shifting his eyes back to the television, he tried to get mentally back to that place he was just before they started talking.

Emily inhaled deeply, feeling warm and safe wrapped up in Hotch's arms. But whether or not she was ready to change the nature of their relationship completely, she didn't know. It wasn't just her feelings, or their feelings, that she had to consider.

It was their children as well.

Jack and Baby.

She'd never been in a healthy relationship. Never even come close. She was a mess. So she didn't want to risk either of their hearts, let alone their children's, for something that she wasn't even sure she was capable of sustaining. Because she knew Hotch, and he was an "all in" kind of guy. And though his marriage had fallen apart, he and Haley had been together for almost twenty years. And by all accounts, they'd been happy for most of that time.

So clearly _he_ was capable of sustaining a healthy relationship.

And as tempting as it would be to just climb on top of him right now and trust that he alone could make this work for them . . . she could never hurt him like that. If she couldn't bring at least 50% to the table then she knew she'd be setting them up to fail. And it was clear, as of this moment, his heart was far more vested than hers.

Now she understood why he worried so much . .. and why he did so many things for her. Actually a lot of things made sense now. And she started to feel kind of stupid for not seeing it before.

Some profiler she was. But sometimes you just couldn't see what was right in front of your face.

Either way though . . . she closed her eyes . . . things had definitely changed.

* * *

_A/N 2: I definitely wasn't planning on any disclosures in the first trimester, but as they were talking it seemed rather silly for them in this world, to go down the same path they're about to in one of my other worlds. The mutual denial approach. Even if here it would have been Emily denying noticing that Hotch had feelings for her. So I let Hotch put a couple cards subtly on the table. And I think Emily's reasons for being hesitant, beyond just not being sure whether she feels romantically towards him, made sense. I would think as a soon to be single mother, if you're trying to be responsible, you'd have to be cautious about any relationships you got into. Though Hotch would obviously be a good catch, her worries about screwing up all of her past romances seemed valid. You wouldn't want to start something that would fizzle out and Hotch is all attached to the baby, maybe the baby is old enough to be attached to him. They're valid concerns. And I thought they were new ones for our couple so it seemed a fresh way to go. They'll sort things out eventually. To be clear though, Hotch didn't say to himself that he was already in love with her, just that he knew he was falling. There's a difference and I didn't want him to be completely out there on the opposite end of the spectrum than her.  
_

_Also, the other bonus of moving them to this stage of 'throwing down' I can pop in and out on them a bit more easily. I think we've now established a personal relationship between them so the 'firsts' in terms of personal touching are all gone. I'll be able to treat them more like they are in Girl. If you're one of the half dozen people that are maybe reading this and haven't read my other stuff, that just means that now they'll be more 'familiar' with one another but without the tension._

_I deliberately didn't make Chris a flat out batterer, Emily's not that screwed up that she'd knowingly be (or more to the point STAY) involved with somebody that would smack her around. But it was pretty clear from the beginning he was completely full of himself and basically an all around douche. And personally, I've found that men like that, when they don't their way, they get a little insistent because they are accustomed to the world (in their estimation) bending to their needs. But grabbing that way is the last step before hitting. If somebody does that, you need to get out immediately. As to whether or not he would have gone past that point, we don't know. But maybe something will happen later that will give us the answer ;)_

_As I was writing the back story on her sister's death, I couldn't for the life of me remember if I'd given her a name before. I did a search and I couldn't see anywhere that I had, but there are already like 45,000 words in my master, so perhaps I missed it. Therefore, if anyone did take note of me naming her previously, please feel free to drop me a line and point out my idiocy. I thought Melanie seemed a balanced name though. It works with Prentiss plus the nicknames, Em and Mel, went well together._

_If you pay attention to the little things, you'll notice that in this world Emily's favorite actor is Humphrey Bogart, not Cary Grant. And Em's favorite pizza here is the Hawaiian, and not a pepperoni and mushroom. It's odd but things like that really are what allow me to write this story. I have to make them different to approach them differently._

_I think I'll be able to post on Girl tomorrow. The one where Emily comes to the 'in love' realization. It's already written, I just need to polish it up and I'm sure I'll have time for that. That might be it though for any postings for a few more days, if not sadly next weekend! We'll see. _

_I'm pretty sure the next chapter here will be the one where Dave finds out about the pregnancy._

_Feedback folks, gotta love it!_


	8. No Guts, No Glory

**Author's Note**:

**First, non story stuff**. A huge thank you to all the lovely reviews and PMs I've gotten this week. I got a ton! And I was _particularly_ appreciative simply because I got this one really mean review over on Aaron and Emily. Basically that I was a crappy writer and my story sucked and that I should consider getting a beta for my grammar and making sure that person was familiar with the show Criminal Minds because clearly I'm not. I don't get the characters, their relationships, or their jobs. Then she went on to bullet point all the ways my story and, by extension I personally (because you know, those are my thoughts), sucked. Yeah! That was awesome. It was quite a detailed list.

So, again, I am incredibly grateful for all of the NICE things people have said. Everybody doesn't have to love everything but common decency does dictate that you be polite about it. And this was just astounding in it's jerkiness. Like she was being paid by the bizarre critique. And I'm pretty sure she's not reading this story because you know I suck so much why would she want to torture herself any further with my pathetic, crappy writing :) But if you are reading this, "isodel," please look forward to the note that I'll dropping back in _your_ inbox this week.

Anyway, enough with this person, I just wanted to seriously say thank you to everyone else because this is just supposed to be fun. A diversion from everybody's real life. But every once in a while there's a party crasher (only my 2nd one in 1600 reviews) so, just know that the occasional kind word does sometimes make a real difference in someone's day in counteracting the poison pen that will turn up out of nowhere.

And special thanks to Arc and luv0817 who read the review in question and were righteously indignant on my behalf :) Thanks ladies! I owe one of you a note back, I'm pretty sure you know who you are :)

**Now, on with the story**! Okay, I tried to write the Dave piece next but my brain wouldn't go there. It insisted on following up with them waking up the next morning. They needed to talk some more. It was the only way to move the story forward because I was blocked with every other scene I tried to write post Montana. So I wrote what the muse wanted. Hopefully people won't be 'bothered' by the turn of events here.

Also, I was previously a little sloppy with my timeframe. I apologize. Juggling this baby theme is a little bit of a trial and error. I thought I'd do trimester, then I decided month would be easier (like I do Girl) but I got thrown off because a month is usually 4 weeks, but occasionally 5 weeks and that doesn't help me keep track of a pregnancy. It was getting fuzzy in my head. And soon we'll reaching milestones like baby moving, baby kicking, able to tell gender, and those are all based on the weeks the mother's at in her pregnancy. Which is the moment it occurred to me, that's what I should be doing too. SO, we're going to straight weeks now, 1-42, and I have tagged the prison/hospital at 10 weeks. I think the last one might have said 8 but I'm going to tidy everything up with a repost of the earlier chapters and we'll just go cleanly forward from here. Consider the opening chapter as 3 weeks and again, I'll retag the rest properly.

And, FYI, I know there were a 'few' typos in the last chapter. Again, sorry. It doesn't matter how many times I read them, I always miss something, especially in a chapter that size. It usually happens last minute when I'm tweaking and then unknowingly end up screwing up verb conjugation or something else in the rest of the sentence. But I fixed them (hopefully all of them) and have reposted. It's a nicer read now :)

Thanks to Arc on this one. She read through to make sure the flow of what happens here made sense. She said yes, and once she has decreed it, it is so :)

* * *

_**Week 10****  
**_

**No Guts, No Glory**

Emily woke up the next morning lying on top of Hotch again. This time he was awake, running his fingers through her hair, and looking down at her with amusement.

"Good Morning."

Using one hand on his pillow for leverage, Emily pushed herself up slightly as looked down at Hotch with a sleepy smile. "'Morning. I'm sorry. I don't know why I keep climbing on top of you when I'm unconscious."

It was kind of weird. She'd never done that with anyone else before. Maybe the bed was too small. Though . . . her eyes took in the dimensions . . . it was at least a double so that didn't really make sense either.

Hotch smiled. "It's okay."

It was very okay actually. Aside from his concerns last night about boundaries, what straight single man, protests waking up with a beautiful woman lying on top of him? Granted, it would be even better if they could do something right now besides just say good morning. But, hopefully that would come in time.

And he noticed that Emily wasn't yet making any moves to get off of him, so he hoped that was a good sign of things to come.

With a yawn, Emily dropped her head back down on Hotch's shoulder. She lay there for a second just enjoying the feeling of waking up in the arms of someone who cared about her. But then suddenly she started to feel uncomfortable.

Worrying that she was maybe being a tease.

After all, she did know that Hotch had feelings for her now. But she hadn't yet given him an answer on whether or not she wanted to pursue anything personal between them, beyond their friendship.

So was it wrong to lie here and be close to him, if she wasn't yet sure about the degree of her own emotional attachment?

Her affection for him was strong, of that she had no doubt. But they had things to talk about before she could decide what she wanted to do. Her concerns here were serious. So maybe she _was_ just being a tease by lying in bed with him. And the last thing she wanted to do was be mean to him.

He'd been wonderful to her.

And she was about to push herself up, when she remembered that _he_ was the one that asked her if she wanted him to stay last night. And if it was going to be too difficult for him to be in close quarters with her then he wouldn't have done that. Especially given he'd already woken up with her once on top of him.

It wasn't like he hadn't known she cuddled in her sleep.

Her eyes crinkled as Hotch tipped his head down to hers . . . but apparently she wasn't the only one that liked to cuddle. She'd known men that didn't want her within three feet of them in bed unless they were engaged in some sexual activity. Granted, most of these men were not le crème of the genetic crop. But the point was, some men liked to be close to women just for sex, and others liked to be close just to be close.

Hotch knew he wasn't getting any this morning so obviously he fell into the latter category.

That was good to know . . . her fingertips ghosted over the bruise on his neck . . . and cuddling just for closeness was a major point in his favor. Her brow wrinkled . . . maybe she should start making a list.

_The Pros and Cons of Becoming Aaron Hotchner's Main Squeeze._

Hotch's eyes crinkled as Emily started giggling. He rubbed his his hand along her back while whispering, "what's so funny?"

They'd gone to bed so early that they'd woken up practically at dawn. Their flight wasn't for almost five hours so he was more than content to lay here with her for half the morning.

Regardless of the nature of their relationship, he had decided that he could definitely get used to lying around in bed with Emily. Again, warm, soft, beautiful woman.

What's not to like?

Then his brow wrinkled as he tried to think of a way to casually propose occasionally sleeping together, even if she said no to a romantic entanglement.

Yeah . . . he huffed to himself . . . that probably wasn't going to fly.

Emily's giggles tapered off with a snort.

"My brain's just being stupid." Then her fingers fell down to his chest as she sobered.

"I just wish I could give you an answer," she paused for a second before continuing softly. "I was a little surprised last night," she tipped her head, "okay, I guess I was a lot surprised. But I think that was probably a forest for the trees thing. Our friendship has been going so well, and you've become such a big part of my life, and I've just really been grateful to have you supporting me in the way that you've been. So it hadn't occurred to me that maybe anything more would possibly ever happen between us." She sighed.

"So perhaps because of that, my feelings right now are probably not exactly the same as yours are."

Feeling him begin to tense up . . . clearly waiting for the brush off . . . she quickly rubbed her hand across his chest to reassure him.

"But that's not to say that I don't like you Hotch. I do. Very much. You're sweet and kind, and even though everyone thinks you're a humorless bastard," he huffed as she finished, "you make me laugh. And if I didn't have Baby to consider, I think I'd probably say yes, let's see what happens. But . . . I do have Baby to consider."

As much as Hotch thought he had prepared himself for no, he was surprised to find that it did still really hurt. When he felt that stab in his heart he realized that he had subconsciously been hoping that she'd take longer to think about it. Because then he could continue to live in his foolish little fantasy world where she might say yes.

But apparently that was going to happen.

He cleared his throat as he gently patted her on the back, "it's okay, I underst . . ."

Emily cut him off, "no," she shook her head firmly, "no, I don't think that you do."

She wanted to see his face as she said the next part, but because of what she wanted to say, she didn't want to lose physical contact with him. So she pushed herself up, shifting so that she was straddling his stomach.

His hands moved up to rest on her hips and she looked down to see the confusion on his face. She gave him a sad smile. "What I'm trying to say is that if I make the wrong decision it's not just my life that I'm messing up anymore. And you need to know that I really suck at relationships. That's the reason I'm so worried about what could happen. I mean we could talk for days about all of the bad men that have gone through my life. I'm a bum magnet."

Now that Hotch could see what her issues were he started to have a glimmer of hope again.

She was afraid of screwing things up. And that was something they could talk about.

So he gently interjected, "do you think that's because of the rape?"

Though they had never discussed what had happened before. He knew her, and he knew that she wouldn't appreciate him using some euphemism for the violation that she'd suffered.

Her eyes burned as she looked down at him. "Not completely. I suppose it didn't help. I mean I wasn't you know, looking to bare my soul to anyone for quite some time after that. But my long term issues weren't really with trust, they were with self confidence," she blinked some of the tears back, "but that's a longer conversation. I guess my point is . . ."

She stopped, closing her eyes for a moment . . . God this was so embarrassing. To have to tell anyone the stupid mistakes you've made always sucks. But he did deserve to know what he was dealing with here.

So with a sigh she started again.

"My point is that I've always picked men that ended up cheating on me, or stealing my money or just generally treated me like crap. And of course I'm smart enough to know better and yet still I never saw any of it coming. Granted when I was young I was probably just kind of naïve. But hell, now I'm trained to read behavior and I _continue_ to pick the loser in the crowd," her eyes dropped down, "I don't know, maybe I should have stayed in therapy longer. I might have found out why I make the same mistakes over and over."

"Self esteem."

Emily tilted her head quizzically and Hotch slid his hands up to encircle her waist. He cleared his throat.

"If you weren't so close to the situation," he continued softly, "then I'm sure you'd see this yourself. Or maybe you have already. But if you say that you've always had issues with self esteem, and you also always have subconsciously picked men that treat you badly, then that's maybe because you don't think deserve better."

She huffed.

"Psych 101."

That had of course occurred to her once or twice, but you never want to think that you're that person. One of the masochists who secretly want to have their face shoved into the dirt over and over. She always liked to think of self as being strong.

_But does a strong person allow that to happen?_

And then Hotch gave her a sad smile.

"It is Psych 101. And I'm not saying that's all it is, because obviously you know your life better than I do. But I can tell you that for whatever reason you've made these choices, you do deserve better Emily. You deserve somebody who will love you for you. Somebody who will treat you well and take care of you and the baby," he could see her tears starting to pool as one of her hands came over to grasp his. He bit his lip, "not that I don't think that you can take care of yourself and Baby on your own. I know that you can," his eyes crinkled, "you can do anything. But I just want you to know," he squeezed her fingers, "that you don't have to do it alone."

He wasn't trying to push her, but if their major obstacle really was Emily's deep rooted fear that she wasn't deserving of love and respect, then that was something they definitely needed to start working on now. Actually they needed to start working on that now regardless of whether or not they pursued anything romantically. Because that was bullshit that someone as beautiful and kind and intelligent as Emily Prentiss would think, on ANY level, that she didn't deserve to be happy.

But if she had any kind of predisposition to that because of something from her childhood or teen years, survivor's guilt over her sister's death wouldn't have helped at all. Nor, of course, would the gruesome violation she'd suffered her rookie year. It wasn't just the one thing.

It was never just the one thing.

And honestly, as much as he'd respected the ambassador in the past, he was really starting to hate her now.

Because he could clearly see a line of sight with Emily's profound issues with guilt and self confidence going back to whatever ideas her mother had planted in her head when she was a kid. And what the hell kind of parent allows her child to spend almost two decades of her life blaming herself for her sister's death in a car accident?

Yeah . . . his jaw twitched once . . . he was definitely starting to hate her.

The tears started running down Emily's face as she looked down at him.

"You see, you say things like that and I think that I'm absolutely crazy to just not say yes right now. But," her voice cracked, "I'm afraid I'm too screwed up to have a healthy long lasting relationship. And not only do I not want to hurt you, but I can't hurt Baby. What if a year from now I self destruct," she started to cry harder, "and then you're attached to Baby and Baby's attached to you but we can't be together anymore," her voice broke completely, "what then?"

This was the second conversation in a row she'd had with Hotch that had ended in sobs. But right now he just seemed so perfect, and she felt so inadequate in comparison. Perhaps things weren't quite that unbalanced, but at the moment it felt that way.

Not to mention these damn hormones were killing her.

Feeling his own eyes burning in sympathy Hotch reached for her.

"Sweetheart, come here," he murmured while pulling her down to his chest. It was clear that she was trying to stop crying.

She wasn't having much luck. And after a moment he rolled her beneath him, and looked into her eyes.

"Emily, you know that there aren't any guarantees. Haley and I were married for sixteen years before we decided we were in the right place to have children. Jack wasn't a last ditch effort to save our marriage. I thought we were happy. It never occurred to me that I would be divorced less than two years later and only able to see my child for a few hours a week."

Emily looked up at him, the tears were still trickling from her eyes.

"So all happiness is an illusion."

He shook his head sadly.

"No, that's not true at all. We were happy. We were happy for a long time. But . . ."

And he paused, realizing then that he was going to have to open up again. It was the only way she would understand. He took a deep breath before he continued, hoping he wasn't just continuing out on this limb alone.

"Things changed with my job. When we were first married I was at the DOJ working as a prosecutor. And she didn't approve of me joining the Bureau. That became a sticking point. A minor one that would eventually become a huge one," he tucked Emily's hair back, "we both made mistakes in our relationship. The divorce was probably more my fault than hers, but in my defense, she never told me how unhappy she was until it was too late to fix anything."

Emily had finally stopped crying and she was looking up at him now with focused attention. He brushed her tears off her face as he continued quietly.

"But you and I have things in common that Haley and I didn't. Work being a huge one. She never understood why we choose to live in this world. But you do," his face darkened slightly, "there are also some things in my past, not the same as yours but . . . bad enough." His gaze shifted slightly . . . he definitely wasn't talking about that today. So he looked back down at her.

"And as to what went wrong with my marriage, I've learned things. I know where I screwed up before and I don't think I'll make the same mistakes," his eyes crinkled slightly as he touched her cheek, "we can make new ones. And we can fight, and we can make up. And it could be good Emily . . . it could be really good."

He stared at her for a moment, seeing that he was reaching her and wondering how much farther he should go. He didn't want to talk her into something she wasn't ready for, or flat out just didn't want.

That would be disastrous.

Not to mention, manipulative and self serving. Which was probably what every crappy boyfriend she'd ever had had done at one point or another. The most recent one included. And he might have his faults, but he did know that he was a better man than her ex-boyfriend.

And they'd come so far since last night, he'd probably opened up about his feelings as much with her in the past twenty four hours as he had with Haley in the last six months of their life together. But opening up and sharing what was on his mind was one of the lessons learned from the smoldering wreckage of his marriage.

So given how much he'd said, it was probably best to stop now and just let her think.

He rolled them onto their sides, wrapped his arms around her tightly, and pulled her in close. Because no matter what happened, he wanted her to know that he would be there for her.

After Emily tucked her head under Hotch's chin, she clutched her fingers into his t-shirt. She was trying to come to decision. A grown up, rational, logical decision.

About love.

It was a fool's debate.

There was no logic or rational debate when it came to the human heart. And Hotch was right. There would never be any guarantees. Maybe they would get together, fall madly in love and fifty years from now they'd be sitting in their rockers on the front porch watching their grandkids. Or maybe three months from now they'd decide they really didn't have anything in common and it would be best to go back to just being friends.

And there were a million different variations in between.

But here was a man . . . a good, kind, honest man, who wanted to be with her. A man who would be a good role model for her child. A man who . . . if things went that far . . . would be a good _father_ to her child.

There was nothing wrong with him. He wasn't a loser, he wasn't a bum, he wasn't going to come home drunk and mistake her for a punching bag. That had happened once or twice in her younger years. Always just the one time, though. Because her response was quick . . . and violent.

Those defense classes she'd taken had not gone to waste.

They were the ones that ended up in the hospital, not her. But she knew, Hotch would never hurt her. He would protect her and Baby.

And she knew . . . if they fell in love, that there wouldn't be anything that he wouldn't do for her.

Hotch was the kind of man that she'd been hoping to find for the past two decades. And now he was here and he'd made his feelings clear. And she didn't think of him like she did Derek or Spencer. They were like brothers.

But Hotch, things had always been different between them. Maybe because it had taken so much longer for them to bond. But she knew two things for sure . . . she was attracted to him, and he was one of the sweetest men she'd ever met.

That would be more than enough for most women.

So she had to decide, was she going to be someone who hid herself away because she was too afraid to try? Or was she going to be someone who recognizes when an opportunity to possibly find happiness has presented itself?

Her eyes started to burn again.

She didn't want to be a coward . . . or a masochist . . . she really did want to be happy. She was tired of being alone. That's how she'd lived most of her life. Since Melanie had died she'd been trying to find something to fill that void. And Baby was coming, and she was so happy about that. But as Hotch had said about his own child, it wasn't fair to try to build your entire life on such small shoulders.

She needed more.

So she took a breath before whispering into his t-shirt.

"I think . . . I think, maybe . . . yes."

Feeling an explosion of joy in his chest he looked down at her hopefully, "really?"

This was a bit of a rollercoaster morning.

Her eyes crinkled as she looked up at him.

"Really. But, we'd have to go slow. Like majorly slow. My worries about screwing this up are very real, but," she touched his cheek, "I don't want to throw away an opportunity that I might not get again. So maybe if we just take it really slow and see how it goes," her nose wrinkled, "but that means no sex, is that going to be a problem?"

For probably ninety percent of the men she'd ever dated that would be a deal breaker, so Hotch's response here would be pretty telling.

He smiled softly, "of course not." Then a thought came to him and he looked at her worriedly, "not forever though right?"

Whatever she needed him to do to feel comfortable moving forward was fine. Hell, he'd only had sex once since he'd gotten divorced so he could certainly wait. But he really didn't think a life of complete celibacy was something that was going to work for him in the long run.

She chuckled at his look of concern.

"No, not forever," she kissed his cheek as she whispered, "just for now," then she sighed, "I know that sometimes I confuse sex and love. And I don't want to do that with you. If we're going to do this then I want to be sure whatever feelings we have are real. So I thought maybe a few months of, I don't know what the word is," she shrugged, "platonic dating, just while we get to know each other."

He nodded his agreement.

"That's a good idea actually. I don't want us to go too fast either. This is a big change. But I have a question," his brow furrowed, "does platonic mean completely platonic? What about kissing?"

Because no kissing, unlike no sex, actually was going to be hard. Basically he wanted to kiss her all the damn time.

Her eyes crinkled, "I can guarantee you that kissing will definitely be put on the table in short order. How about we just play it by ear on that one, okay?"

Given she now had free license to kiss this absolutely gorgeous man whenever she wanted to, she definitely didn't think she'd be able to resist that for long. She just wanted to see how things went first. Right now her feelings for him were a little mixed up, they needed to be unraveled. See what was friendship and what was more. That's what she was hoping would happen over the coming weeks and months.

Beyond that though, she was trying to be considerate of his feelings. At this moment, for him a kiss would mean so much more emotionally than it would mean for her. So she wanted to wait until it would mean as much to both of them.

If this relationship was meant to go anywhere, then she figured that it shouldn't take long for her to reach that point.

He gave her a full dimpled grin, "very okay."

Kissing in short order. That was the best news he'd had in a year!

Emily laughed as she ran her hands over his face, "it's so nice to see your dimples," seeing the blush start to climb his cheeks, she made a mental note that was a topic that embarrassed him, and she quickly changed the subject, "I do have a good one for you. Well, if you want, it's a good one. If you don't then we can wait on that too."

Wrinkling his brow, he looked over at her in confusion, "what?"

She rubbed his chest, "this, sleeping together. That would be okay with me if you want to sleep over sometimes," she looked at him guiltily, "but I understand with the no sex thing that it might be a little awkward. So whatever you want."

God knows she'd love to be able to have a warm bed a few times a week, but he might think that was a weird idea.

His eyes widened, "are you kidding me? You think I'm going to turn down sleeping with you because we're not going to get to have sex? Obviously you've never been married. I've spent half of my life sleeping with a woman that I couldn't have sex with!"

She burst out laughing, "okay then," she smiled, "it looks like we have a little plan," she huffed, "it's a good thing we woke up so early or we wouldn't have had time to talk again."

Hotch kissed the top of her head. "I agree, this is probably the only time I've ever been happy about waking up at dawn."

Emily curled back into his side with a happy sigh, "now when do we have to get up for real?"

He glanced over at the clock as he wrapped his arms around her, "hmm, the flight isn't until 11:15 and it's only a little after 6. So I guess, if you shower quickly, we can sleep for another hour and a half."

This would definitely be one day where he wished he was just a regular person with a regular job. Then they could call in sick and just stay in bed all day. Even if they weren't doing anything but cuddling, outside of his time with Jack, this was the best he'd felt in months.

He didn't feel lonely anymore.

And it wasn't an illusion now, because they had a plan. It was a good plan. It gave them time to figure things out. And who knows really what would happen down the road. All he did know was that he too old to screw around if he'd found somebody who might make him happy.

Also he had no worries that he'd pushed her into anything. Her rules made sense. They showed that she hadn't just tossed off all of her own concerns out the window just because he told her to. He didn't want to have that much influence over her, and he was actually really relieved to see that he didn't.

Whatever had driven her to make bad decisions when it came to relationships in the past, she clearly was starting to think now like a parent. And she was trying to do what was best for her child.

He respected that. She was being a good mom. And if anything it was just one more reason he wanted to be with her.

And she was right, they should wait until they were both really ready before they moved on to any physical exchanges of affection.

Well . . . he ran his fingers gently down her back . . . beyond what they were doing now. But this was more bonding than anything else.

Emily's eyes started to close again, but then her expression suddenly changed to one of concern and her head popped up, "how's your shoulder?"

She mentally berated herself . . . for God's sake he got stabbed yesterday Em! You really should have asked him that when we first woke up.

His nose wrinkled, "a little stiff and achy but it doesn't really hurt." Then he gave her the same look back, "any morning sickness?"

Emily was relieved that he wasn't in any pain and she looked down for a second thinking about his question to her, "it's funny, I'm so used to waking up queasy that I didn't even really notice it. But yeah," she looked back up, "I probably should eat my crackers before it gets worse."

She moved to get up and but Hotch squeezed her arm, "you stay, I'll get them," he could clearly see them sitting on the desk behind the pizza box.

Her eyes crinkled as they disentangled, "thanks."

Actually . . . he pushed himself off the bed . . . cold pizza sounded really good. He was frigging starving. He'd hardly eaten anything yesterday.

Hotch got her crackers and ginger ale for her and then went back down and devoured one slice of pizza before he grabbed another one. He saw Emily watching him chew the second piece and he paused, concerned, "is the smell bothering you?"

She swallowed her cracker and then smiled, "is it bothering me in the sense that it smells really good and I'd like some too? Then yes, yes it is bothering me."

It could possibly make her throw up but she was willing to risk it.

He smiled as he turned to grab her a slice and a napkin. Then he went back down and climbed into bed. They traded, Hotch took a drink of her ginger ale and she took a bite out of the pizza. Then she looked up at him with a little grin, "you let me have pizza two days in a row."

Wrinkling his brow, he leaned back against the headboard, "huh, I guess I did," he gave her a mock scowl, "that's it for awhile though."

She chuckled as she took another bite, "technically I think this is just a continuation of last night," she swallowed, "if we hadn't both passed out like we'd been drugged then we probably would have eaten a proper dinner and finished it up then. As it is we still have what? Two slices left."

Hotch tipped his head, "true," then a thought came to him and he looked over worriedly, "it doesn't bother you does it? You know that I've been kind of bossy about trying to get you to eat healthier."

That had just occurred to him. It was one thing when they were strictly boss/agent and he was just worried about her health. But now the whole point here was to see if they could build a mutually supportive, healthy relationship. The odds of that weren't too good if she secretly thought he was a controlling bastard.

As she swallowed her last bite Emily scowled slightly as she shook her head, "no, of course not," she huffed, "that's just you being you. If it bothered me then we wouldn't even have been able to become friends." Her eyes crinkled, "and it's actually nice to know that somebody cares enough to get mad at me for clogging my arteries."

He gave her a relieved smile, "good, because you know that's the kind of thing I want you to tell me. If I'm being too . . . well . . . me," his eyes dropped down for a moment before he looked back up at her, "you know you're right about going really slow here. Because we do have established boundaries in our work relationship, and that's what's being rewritten. So I'll apologize now if I fall into that pattern off duty of being a little too, uh, . . . alpha. And please tell me right away if it starts happening."

She nodded and gave him a little smile, "I promise."

He smiled back but his brain continued to worry. If he was going to choose an "easy" relationship this would not have been it. But . . . he felt a warmth spread through his body as Emily put her head back down on his chest . . . you don't always get to choose these things. Hell, you hardly ever do. The human heart made its own rules. And there was no way, given how attached he was becoming, that he was going to stop and worry about the _work_ rules right now.

They were going slow, and they'd of course be professional and discreet when on duty. And before they knew it Emily would be going out on maternity leave. By the time she was ready to come back, then, ideally if things went well, they'd have been involved, in some capacity, for almost a year.

Certainly enough time to figure out whether or not they were in this for the long haul. And if they were, then, and only then, would he have the conversation with Strauss and figure out what to do.

Cart before the horse and all that crap.

Emily rubbed her hand across Hotch's stomach . . . funny the things she was allowed to do today that she wasn't allowed to do yesterday. As she felt the taut muscles beneath her palm she moved her other hand over to the small bump of her own stomach and then she looked up at him in concern.

"Are you sure about this Hotch? Really? I mean, you're asking for me and Baby. That's a lot to take on."

Really, what man in his right mind wants to get involved with a pregnant woman carrying the amount of baggage she had?

Perhaps Hotch did have a flaw . . . he was nuts.

He tucked her hair back, "well, you're getting me and Jack," his eyes crinkled, "I'm sure we can be a handful too. And speaking as one single parent to another, I have to tell you, people our age usually come with kids. Sometimes older, sometimes younger. Sometimes part time, sometimes full time," he huffed slightly, "we're just a variation on the statistics."

She stared at him for a moment and then nodded slowly, "yeah, I suppose that's true," then she brightened considerably as she gave him a hopeful look, "does this mean that you'd maybe want to go to the doctor with me sometime? It was really nice having you there last night for the ultrasound."

That was a bonus that hadn't occurred to her yet. She'd actually have a partner like all of the other pregnant women in the doctor's office. Just because Hotch wasn't the father didn't mean he couldn't still keep her company sometimes.

Hotch smiled sadly, "yeah, that sounds like fun," his voice got a little husky, "I uh, missed a lot of Haley's appointments," his gaze shifted, "work always seemed to take precedence."

He wasn't much for regret, but if he had it to do over again, that was one thing that he would change. He would have been there for all of it. Jack was the only child he was probably ever going to have and he'd missed so much. Hell, if he hadn't gotten up so damn early to get into the office he probably would have missed the morning sickness too.

That was probably the only thing he really had been there for all the way through.

Emily bit her lip as she looked up at him . . . poor Hotch. She couldn't imagine being in that position, trying to run a Unit like theirs, having such a demanding . . . important . . . job, and trying to be a fulltime spouse and parent.

No wonder he was so stressed out when she came on board. He wasn't quite so bad now, but he really never did seem happy. And given what he'd told her last night about how lonely he was, she now knew why.

And she could tell from the sadness on his face that he was remembering the old days, the things he had done wrong.

It bothered her to see him in pain.

But then it occurred to her, she had a new role here . . . she was the well, girlfriend.

Hotch's girlfriend.

God . . . her brow wrinkled slightly . . . that just sounded weird. Almost as much as 'main squeeze.'

But regardless of her title, either one meant that not only was it her job to cheer him up, she had many more options at her disposal to do that than when they were just friends.

Though . . . she rolled her eyes slightly as she shifted around . . . if she hadn't just put all those rules in place she would have had way better ways to cheer him up.

But . . . she climbed into his lap . . . she had one she thought would at least distract him.

Feeling Emily's weight pressing down on him, Hotch's gaze shifted over to look at her. She smiled softly and pressed a kiss to his forehead before pulling him to her breast. She felt him sigh and wrap his arms around her waist.

And she realized then, maybe it wouldn't take so long to sort out her feelings. Because this . . . sitting in his lap with his arms wrapped around her . . . this was really nice. And this was not just friendship.

But, she wasn't trying to make herself feel better, this was about him. So she leaned back slightly and took one of his hands off her waist, bringing it around to her stomach.

As Hotch's palm covered that small bump where Emily's child was growing, he felt his melancholy over his past mistakes start to fade.

This was a new life. New opportunities were here.

Literally . . . he put his other hand on Emily's hip . . . they had fallen into his lap.

There was no point in dwelling on the things he did wrong before. As he told Emily earlier, he wouldn't make those mistakes again. And if he wanted Emily . . . which he did . . . then he got Baby as a package deal.

It was a good deal. Though he was still a little worried about becoming too attached to this little life.

If things didn't work out between them, he wasn't sure if his heart would be able to survive losing another child. Babies were easy to fall in love with. Too easy. And if he and Emily got together for real, and then broke up later, he wouldn't even be allowed to have visitation with this one.

Still though, he knew that he needed to get past that worry. Because he couldn't attempt to build any kind of meaningful relationship with a woman if he didn't embrace her child too.

Not to mention if he was already planning for failure then that would be a self fulfilling prophecy.

But, what he told her about Jack was correct as well. It's not as though he could ever become involved with a woman that didn't care about his son too. But Emily was kind and loving and he wasn't worried about the two of them getting along. No . . . this was about him.

Him and Baby.

Emily was trying to move past her fears, so he needed to move past his. So he lifted the bottom of her t-t-shirt and placed his hand on her bare stomach. And then he looked up . . . and smiled.

"Thank you."

Her eyes filled with tears as she looked back at him with a watery smile. They might not have been able to go all the way today.

But . . . she placed her hand on top of his . . . maybe they'd gone just far enough.

* * *

_A/N 2: So hopefully nobody's mad at me :) I know that some of the appeal here was that it was a slow transition in their relationship, and I'm still trying to keep it a slow transition. But they needed to have that conversation the next morning. If she wasn't ready to give him an answer she should at least have told him what her concerns were. Which is what happened and then, yada yada yada, she's his main squeeze. _

_I know I said something early on about dragging this out a bit but I think if I'd done something else here it would have been an artificial obstacle to overcome. Because once they started talking about their issues, and Emily started thinking about not wanting to be a coward and how many chances she might get to find a nice guy, it just seemed really unrealistically stupid, to THEN have her tell him . . . no. _

_Of course it would have also been unrealistically stupid to have them jump into bed (okay they were already in bed, but you know what I mean) and start making permanent declarations. A decision to be together is going to have major ramifications and they shouldn't rush into anything. I think this way we'll get some nice coupley stuff, but not so much with the hot and heavy. And there's already plenty of hot and heavy over in Second Chances. Oh yeah, if anybody isn't reading my other baby story and would like to see them have sex, and move things along at a much faster pace, head on over there. So in contrast, Mirror will be more like an 'old fashioned' romance. You know like Cary Grant and Katherine Hepburn, but Kate's knocked up :) _

_And tfm has requested a convo between Em and Morgan. I am planning on writing that. I know I have at least one other Prentiss/Morgan shipper out there (hi! I'll write back to your review tomorrow) so hopefully that will make somebody else happy too. I have very particular idea in mind as to how he finds out she's with Hotch and that she's pregnant. And, because this is a brave new world, I might let Morgan have some feelings for her here that she wasn't aware of. I'm not trying to torture the guy or anything but this is clearly an angstier story overall, everyone has their issues, and I think adding a bit of a twist on my usual brother/sister dynamic would be a way to continue that. Also, I don't want to have the exact same reactions from the team in both my baby stories._

_I'm not trying to make Emily more of a 'mess' than what we see in canon. But I don't actually think I am because we have little of her from canon except Demonology and clearly, that was a mess! But the idea of just making her history a bit more depressing than I have before, and overall just a lot of regrets, came from a scene from the show that keeps flashing in my head. It's her and Rossi in the Roadkill episode (I think) and they're in a parking garage and they're looking at these cigarette butts and he asks her if she ever smoked. And her expression darkened and she said something like, she used to do a lot of things. It was a pretty light question that got a fairly dark answer, and it just struck me. Maybe its just the way PB decided to play it, but I took it that there's more in her past than we've seen. And that's kind of why I've been working this angle here with her. _

_But I am planning on H/P having a conversation about past relationships and I will give Emily maybe a lost love or something. At least a couple of relationships that weren't quite as bad as the few that have been highlighted so far. Because I have said that her bad choices predated her rape so there had to have been something in there. Canon says (from Demonology) she was looking for ways to make people like her. But that wouldn't explain her later "dated worse than Viper". As an adult she should have been past that need, and if she wasn't, there had to have been something else._

_Hotch, I did make allusion here to him also having a dark past. But I think the general consensus is that's canon, though it was alluded to canon. I haven't decided yet what his thing specifically will be here. _

_Lastly, (I think my notes were as long as the damn story), if you're interested in sneak peaks on the season premiere, both the fanatics website (which has a lovely picture of Em's new haircut) and a site called spoiltertv, both have some good stuff up. Nothing super spoilery, but enough to give you some idea where things are going. I actually have enough in my head now that I think I'll be writing something this weekend as a 'speculative' what I think might happen. One thing that seems clear, they're alluding to Emily being the first one to go looking for Hotch. Yay!_

_Now next, finally we can go home and see Dave!_


	9. Paper Hearts

**Author's Note**: This one's even bigger than the last. Over 13k words. It'll probably take you as long to read it, as it did me to write it!

I did something different here style wise. Now that I have so little time to write I'm trying to figure out a way to 'efficiently' keep the stories moving. So to that end, I think with Mirror at least, I'm going to go on a week by week progression. In that, whatever week I label the chapter, EVERYTHING that happens in that week, is going into that one chapter. At least that should get us rolling through the early days until we get to some major events. The plus side for you guys is that most likely they'll all be pretty hefty reads and you'll get more detail on their activities.

The downside of course is that most likely you'll have to wait longer between postings. Because you'll see, basically at every break point, I could technically have posted. But I think this will be the fastest way to keep the overall story going and not leaving everything all dangly. I've sort of felt like I'm just throwing spaghetti on the wall lately and I'd like to install a bit of order.

So this is Week 11, picking up the Tuesday after the Montana trip. If you'll recall when they were in the hospital, Emily asked if Hotch would try a new Lamaze class with her the next week. So we're starting there, and then I keep moving on with section breaks. I promise I did write the Dave piece this time :) Though it is at the very end, so you have to keep reading to get to the prize.

* * *

_Week 11_

___**Tuesday Evening**_

**Paper Hearts**

They paused for a moment in front of the closed door, and Hotch looked down when he felt Emily squeeze his hand.

"What?"

Her eyes crinkled as she shifted her pillow under her arm and looked up at him with a sheepish smile.

"I promise not to cry if this one doesn't go well."

His expression immediately softened and he pulled her into a hug.

"Don't you worry about that," he whispered against her hair, "you can cry whenever you want to sweetheart."

As much as it bothered him to see her upset, he didn't want her to feel uncomfortable expressing her emotions around him. That wasn't healthy for her, or their relationship.

Besides, he couldn't do anything for her if he didn't know when she was upset.

Emily smiled against his chest.

"Thanks." And then she heard Hotch add drolly.

"Well, I should say that you can cry whenever you want to provided that we're off duty." His gaze dropped down to hers and he winked, "because you know this would be a little awkward in interrogation."

She chuckled.

"I agree, it would probably throw off our rhythm." Then she looked down for a moment, taking a deep breath before looking back up at him with a smile and nod.

"I'm ready now."

His lip quirked up in response, and his arm slipped down to her waist before he grabbed the handle of the door and pulled it open.

Okay . . . he took his own breath as they entered the room . . . Lamaze class, take 2.

They stopped again just inside the classroom, standing there for a moment to scope out the crowd.

This group was a little larger than the last one . . . nearly a dozen couples by his quick count . . . so he hoped that meant better opportunities for finding somebody that Emily would have something in common with.

Either way Hotch was determined that this class was going to go well even if it killed him. So to that end, he'd made sure that she left work by five-thirty and he was out by six, so that they could both go home to change and lock up their weapons.

Emily also needed to have time to eat.

And as much as he would have loved to take her out somewhere, they didn't really have time for a sit down dinner and still get from her house to Manassas without being late for class at eight. As it was, by the time he picked her up, they'd gotten stuck in the remnants of rush hour traffic. They'd barely made it to the hospital at ten of eight.

That was cutting it too close.

So he had already made a mental note that he was going to have to make sure to leave work even earlier next Tuesday. Or else he had to figure out a faster route to the hospital. Perhaps both.

It would be nice if he did have time to take her to dinner.

It had been less than a week since their discussions in Montana so they were still figuring out how exactly to move forward. Though he wanted so much to spend time with her, they both knew it would be a little strange to go from zero to sixty in their personal relationship.

Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say it was more like _twenty_ to sixty.

After all they had started spending more personal time together over the past couple of months. Still though, lunches and afternoon breaks were not exactly the same as trying to now figure out romantic compatibility for, well . . . ever.

But every relationship started somewhere, and lunches had at least gotten the ball rolling.

Unfortunately that ball had pretty much come to a standstill though. Since they'd flown home, with the exception of walking her to her car the last two nights, they hadn't had any time to spend alone together.

He had Jack all weekend, and obviously it was _much_ too soon to introduce Emily to his son. And then Monday Hotch was in a chiefs' training all day. That training had dragged over into Tuesday as well, so again no break time with Emily.

Basically they had this great conversation in bed Friday morning, and then they hadn't been alone again since.

To borrow a phrase from Emily's repertoire, it sucked.

So now it was the night of their second Lamaze class . . . their half-assed first date really . . . and though they'd both been tied up all day, he was determined to get the most out of their alone time now. So he tightened his grip around Emily's waist, feeling unusually protective of her given what had happened last time, and he started walking them a little further into the room.

Emily leaned her head against Hotch's chest while they made a slow circle of the class. They were smiling politely as they went, trying not to be obvious about their inspection.

It was nice to be with someone who had the same reaction to total strangers as she did . . . pure distrust.

Since they'd flown home, she and Hotch had had almost zero time together. And perhaps because of that, Emily had been giving a lot of thought to their discussion last week.

Hoping that she'd made the right choice.

But when he said something like he did in the hall, so sweet and funny, she was positive that this was the right path for her. Because she was getting to see a side of Hotch that nobody else did. The little glimmers of softness that had shown through his armor over the past couple years, were now going to be hers alone.

And she really would have been a fool to say no to exploring more of that side of him.

But given their work demands . . . and Hotch's visitation with his son . . . this week, a fairly average one so far, had shown her that it was entirely possible that they'd be going even _slower_ with this relationship than they'd originally planned.

And she'd kind of planned a snail's pace as it was.

So she was just happy to have this time with him now. After lying around in bed with him half the morning in Montana, she'd started to get really comfortable touching him. She was tactile by nature and expressing affection like that was also a good way of speeding up their emotional bonding.

Basically she'd been curled up in his arms for almost twelve hours.

But then they'd flown home.

And the only times she'd seen him since that day had been at the Bureau. Thirty seconds in the morning when he ran through the bullpen on his way to the HR seminar, and then five minutes at night when he had walked her to her car. But because he'd lost so much time with that damn training, he'd had to go right back to work. And there were cameras all over the parking garage, so it wasn't not like she could even hold his hand for two seconds.

It sucked.

Because even though she'd been hesitant about starting a relationship . . . now that she had just a taste of the possibilities with him . . . she was already beginning to miss spending time with him. Also, she was a little depressed seeing how hard it was going to be to spend personal time together when they worked so damn much. And the bureau had cameras everywhere. It's not as she wanted to have a quickie in the supply closet, she wanted . . . something.

And they couldn't get anything. So how could they try to build a real relationship, if they never saw each other outside of the office?

Though as she walked around now with his arm protectively around her waist, she started to feel a little more hopeful. Because this was good. This was_ something_.

She was just going to have to figure out a way to get this more often.

And then her heart suddenly swelled when she realized that this time Hotch wasn't attending class with her in the 'pity date' capacity. His arm was around her in the same way that she could see the other men in the room were touching their wives/girlfriends.

This time she had her own guy.

Feeling a burst of affection for him, she leaned up and placed a quick kiss on his cheek. When she pulled away, she stared at him with a little smile. He looked back down at her with a slightly amused expression.

"What was that for?"

Emily ran her thumb across the faint stubble of his 5 o'clock shadow, wiping off the smudge of lipstick.

"Just a random utterance," she tilted her head, "is that okay if I kiss you?"

Hotch shot her a look.

"What do you think?"

She huffed back.

"I just meant that this is the first time we've been out in public. These are people that we don't know," her brow wrinkled slightly as she looked at him questioningly, "I just wasn't sure how you felt about, you know, 'public displays of affection.'

Though she and Hotch had known each other for years, she had no idea how he felt about things like this. Obviously in bed, she'd seen he was very cuddly and physically expressive with his affection for her. That may have seemed like a no brainer to a lot of people trying to build a relationship, but not all men were like that.

Hell, not even all women were like that.

But that cuddly behavior was in STARK contrast to how incredibly serious and reserved he was on duty. She figured there had to be some sort of a happy medium when he was out in the world, but in 'relationship mode.'

Hotch's eyebrow quirked up slightly, she had a good point there. This definitely wasn't something that would have come up in general conversation at work.

"Well I wouldn't exactly be comfortable with making out in public, but I can tell you that a kiss on the cheek is perfectly fine. And for future reference," he winked at her, "a peck on the lips is also perfectly acceptable."

Her mouth twitched and she had an overwhelming desire to put that one to the test. But she figured it would probably be best to wait just a little longer before she added kissing to the . . . repertoire.

A light peck would quickly lead to regular kissing, which would eventually lead to full on making out. And as much fun as all that would surely be, she wasn't quite ready yet to start the ball rolling down that path. Not only was she still a little concerned about 'inequity of attachment' on the kissing front, but full on making out would get them all worked up.

And that would make it much harder to stick with the 'no sex for awhile' rule.

So instead of planting one on him, she just grinned.

"I'll keep that in mind." And then she gave him a quick squeeze around the torso before turning her attention back to the class.

People were starting to stake out their areas, so she slipped her hand into Hotch's and tugged him over to one of the mats on the end of the row.

"I want to get that one."

They were there early enough that she could actually pick something and not just get stuck with it. It was silly but that seemed to be an important difference to her.

Things probably would have gone a little better last time if she'd felt more in control of the situation. As it was she'd basically been completely out of sorts from the moment she walked into the hospital alone and went to the wrong room.

This time . . . Hotch helped her down to the mat . . . she had a partner walking in the door. And . . . she leaned back against his chest . . . the partner in question had a good sense of direction and had brought them directly to the proper classroom.

Things were definitely off to a much better start.

Hotch's arms slipped around Emily's waist and he put his chin on her shoulder. Though this was essentially the exact same position they'd been in last week, this time completely different circumstances had brought them to it. Now he was holding her just because he could, not because he needed to protect her from the wolves at the door. And the fact that they had spoken and settled on a new path, took the awkwardness out of his interactions with her.

So now he felt free to hold her hand or give her a hug or just wrap her up in his arms. And he wasn't ill at ease worrying if she could tell he was a pathetic fool falling in love with a woman for whom he wasn't good enough. Because now she knew he was a pathetic fool and she wanted him around anyway.

It was liberating.

As the teacher called the class to order, Hotch felt Emily tense up slightly. He didn't want her to get nervous like last time so he kissed her cheek and whispered, "at least this teacher isn't wearing a sweatshirt with a picture of her cat. I think that's a good sign."

Emily chuckled slightly and he could feel her relax again as she placed her hand on top of his and squeezed.

He squeezed back and then turned his attention to the woman at the front of the room.

As much as Emily tried to pretend in the car that she wasn't worried about this class, he knew that this was still a big deal to her. And that meant that it was a big deal to him. If she wanted to make a pregnant girlfriend then he was going to make damn sure that she did.

The teacher called first position and he hid his sigh as Emily handed him her pillow . . . even if that meant he had to suffer through three birthing classes a week until they found somebody that she liked.

/*/*/*/*/*

Emily was practically floating as they walked down the hall to her apartment. She turned to Hotch with a huge grin.

"I can't believe I got two phone numbers!"

Hotch chuckled as he used his index finger to wipe a bit of chocolate ice cream off of her nose.

"Yes, it was a good haul."

The class itself fortunately had gone without incident. And then afterwards, at the cookie and punch table, Emily had immediately run into a woman that she'd started chatting with about morning sickness remedies. That woman's husband had gone to the bathroom so Hotch had kept himself busy talking to two Army doctors who had driven down from Fort Detrick.

Hotch's behavioral profiling had kicked in and he'd immediately jumped to the logical supposition that this couple also had either a chain of command issue, or an officer/enlisted problem.

Otherwise why would they have driven THIS far out of their way for a birthing class?

It seemed logical, that like Emily and himself, that they were trying to avoid running into people they knew. So as soon as Emily was free, he'd pulled her into the conversation and the women had hit it off. It turned out the doctor was also there looking to make a friend. And Hotch had liked both of them. Being distrustful by nature was another thing the four of them had in common, so rather than just giving their names, they'd all exchanged credentials. Hotch had been pleased to see that they were in bio-weapons research.

That meant they had serious jobs too. All in all, it was a good fit for him and Emily. Not that _he_ was looking to make a new friend . . . after all he wasn't an expectant father . . . but if he was going to get stuck talking to some guy after class, it would be nice if he didn't want to club him with the butt of his pistol.

The women had gotten along so well that they were getting together this Saturday for a cup of decaf coffee.

Emily had been so excited about her new friend Maura that Hotch had taken her out for a celebratory ice cream cone. The one that was now dripping on the hallway carpet because she'd been so pumped up chattering away in the car that it had started to melt.

As she took another lick, trying to keep the rocky road from trickling down her arm, Hotch took the keys out of her other hand, and slipped the one labeled 'home' into the lock. When he picked her up she'd met him downstairs to save time, so he actually hadn't been back to her apartment since early last summer.

That was a very awkward visit, and as he flashed on it, he suddenly felt oddly uncomfortable just letting himself into her home now.

Emily took a few steps down the front hall towards the kitchen.

She was going to transfer her cone to a bowl, when she suddenly realized Hotch wasn't behind her. She looked back to see he was just standing in the doorway holding her pillow with a funny look on his face. Her brow wrinkled as she tipped her head, "what's wrong?"

Hotch stared at her for a second and then blinked before he shook his head slightly and stepped inside.

"Uh, I was just remembering the last time I was here," he locked the door before looking back to her with a sad smile, "things were very different then."

Her nose wrinkled.

"They were but," she shook her head, "they're much better now, so please don't get depressed thinking about what was going on back when Strauss was trying to destroy our lives."

Seeing him nod his agreement, her eyes crinkled.

"If I didn't have sticky fingers I'd come over and give you a hug. So," she hurried into the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, "hold that thought for one second while I put this down and wash my hands."

Hotch huffed as he followed her into the kitchen, dropping the pillow on the counter and watching as she plopped her cone upside down into a cereal bowl Then she rinsed off her hands and turned back to him with a smile.

"Okay," she opened her arms, "all clean now."

With a chuckle he went over and lifted her off the ground, smiling as he felt her arms encircle his neck. He held her tightly for a moment and then she hopped slightly and her legs encircled his waist. Mouth quivering he tipped his head back to see her giving him an amused grin.

"Just because we aren't having sex, doesn't mean that we can't do other stuff," her lips twitched, "I also wanted to see if we could get a good benchmark set to gauge the point when I get too fat for you to lift me up."

Hotch stared at her for a moment, straight faced before he snorted and burst out laughing.

"There are so many responses I could make to that statement. But I'm afraid that most of them will come out wrong and I'll just in trouble. But," he took a few steps over to place her on the counter before he started kissing her neck, and murmuring against the skin, "suffice it to say that I can bench 240 lbs, so . . . " he worked his way across her jaw with small kisses, stopping and reluctantly pulling back just as he got to her mouth.

"I uh," he swallowed hard, "I think we're good."

Okay, he probably shouldn't have done that. Because it had taken just about every inch of his self control to pull back at that moment. That was just supposed to be a couple of little kisses, not . . . foreplay.

He berated himself . . . definitely not sticking in the vein of platonic dating there Aaron!

All he had done was torture himself, and as he saw Emily's pupils darken he realized he had just done the same thing to her.

His hands slid along her outer rib cage and down to her hips as he gave her a sheepish smile.

"Sorry, got a little out of hand there."

Emily heart was pounding as she stared into his eyes trying to remember why it was that there couldn't be any kissing or making out or any other fun stuff. Because right now those all seemed like really stupid rules that a really stupid person had come up with.

And then her racing hormones reminded her that the stupid kissing rule was put into place because of moments like this. To prevent her from doing something idiotic the first week of them dating. Like for instance, jumping off the counter, knocking him to the kitchen floor and tearing his clothes off.

Which is what she wanted to do right then. Even more so after the apology and little tinge of blush she could see on his face.

_God he was so flipping cute!_

She reached up and ran the pad of her thumb across his lips.

"It's okay," she said with a little smile, "Though," her gaze shifted over to the bowl next to her as she added ironically, "I think you may have melted my ice cream."

His mouth quivered.

"If I didn't know there was a pool of rocky road right there I'd assume that was a euphemism for something."

Emily laughed as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in close again.

"Perhaps down the road it will be. But for now, a cigar is just a cigar." She tipped her forehead against his, "this going slow thing is apparently going to be a little more difficult than I thought it would be."

Hotch sighed.

"I know. I'm sorry, that was my fault," he gave her a sheepish smile, "I don't know if I told you last week but the no kissing rule is going to be a little bit hard for me. And then I didn't get to see you for so many days so all I wanted to do tonight when we were finally alone, was just kiss you."

In and of itself, not such a terrible crime to want to give your new girlfriend a kiss hello. But, if he wanted this to work, then he had to be respectful of her wishes.

The last of Emily's lusty thoughts faded as her countenance softened. She was suddenly filled with some emotion she couldn't describe.

Something pure.

But whatever it was, she was pretty sure that maybe Hotch's feelings for her had started with the same sensation.

All he wanted to do was kiss her. How was she supposed to resist such a sweet, unabashed, declaration?

Her fingertips lightly ghosted over his cheekbones . . . the man was going to break down ever wall of self preservation she had.

Her eyes locked with his as she whispered, "do you have your ready bag? Could you sleep here tonight?"

Three minutes ago, when she wanted to knock him to the ground, she would have thought him sleeping over was a bad idea. But now, she just didn't want him going home.

Hotch stared back for a moment before he nodded.

"Yeah, if you want me to I could stay."

After Montana he had kind of hoped that the sleeping together thing would come up even before the kissing. But he would have never been so presumptuous to assume their first evening together as a couple would result in her inviting him to stay over.

For that reason, his bag was still in the trunk.

Her eyes crinkled.

"Good," she loosely wrapped her arms around his neck, "given how obvious it's become that spending time together alone will be a challenge, I thought we should be a bit creative. So, if it's possible that we may sometimes only get one night together a week, then I think we should actually take the whole night whenever we can," she looked back a bit worriedly, "sound good?"

To her it seemed to either be a really creative use of their free time, or, well, moving entirely too fast. But given that they wouldn't be having sex she was hoping that he wouldn't see it that way.

"Yeah," Hotch nodded, "I wasn't sure how quickly you'd want to do something like that but," a shadow of a smile touched his lips, "I'm definitely on board if you are."

How could he not be on board? Now that he was allowed to touch her, these past five days without so much as being able to hold her hand had been intolerable. And they were still in the early days of their relationship! What the hell was he going to do with himself if a month from now if he woke up and realized he'd fallen in love. In that scenario, which he saw as quite a plausible one, having to go four or five days at a stretch without any physical contact at all wasn't going to fly.

Emily was right, might as well start figuring out now how best to make use of the little time they did have to spend together.

His hands tightened around her waist and he lifted her down off the counter.

"You finish up your ice cream before it's soup, and I'll go grab my bag now before I get clubbed over the head in your parking lot at midnight." Then he added drolly, "after all, I don't have my weapon with me."

When he was changing out of his suit and into his jeans and polo shirt, for just a moment he'd considered leaving his ankle holster on . . . but then he'd pictured how much worse that would look if somebody noticed it. And he'd been so afraid of screwing things up for her that he'd left it at home. Tonight's class was probably the first place he'd gone in ten years where he'd been completely unarmed. And given that he had none with him now, he made a mental note to get up early so he could swing by his place and get his guns.

Emily turned slightly to pick up her bowl of rocky road.

"I guess next week you should just lock your guns up here so you don't have to go home in the morning," she popped a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth and then noticed the look Hotch was giving her.

"What?" Her question was slightly garbled around her spoon.

He kissed the tip of her nose.

"Just wondering if you were psychic or something."

That was a little freaky.

"Well," she dipped her spoon back into the chocolate, "great minds do," she fed him a bite, "think alike."

Licking his lips clean of the sweet mixture, Hotch smiled back down at her, "that they do." Then he gave her shoulder a light squeeze before he let go of her completely.

"Be right back."

He started towards he door . . . and was halfway down the hall . . . when Emily called out.

"Wait!"

He turned back to see her hurrying over to the gun safe in the wall by the front closet. She quickly punched in the code and pulled out her Glock and walked it over to him.

"Here," she slipped it into his hand, "it is getting late."

She lived in a good neighborhood, but it was almost ten. And she didn't much like the idea of him out all by himself at night with no protection at all. Though she did understand that most of the world did walk around unarmed, they didn't. And that was because they knew how many dangers really did lurk in the shadows.

Hotch stared down at the weapon in his hand . . . she was giving him her gun. His expression softened as he looked back up at her.

That was so sweet.

Well, given their line of work that was sweet. He figured with normal people that would probably show a degree of paranoia that would not be attractive to the opposite sex.

But personally he thought it was adorable.

As he slipped the gun into his waistband and pulled his shirt down over it he gave her a little smile, "thanks."

Emily gave him a shy smile back.

"You're welcome," then she laughed self consciously, "I've never given anyone my gun before," she bit her lip nervously, "is it dorky that it seems like a romantic gesture?"

It did seem kind of silly that it was romantic to her. But she certainly never would have handed her gun over to any of the men she'd dated in the past, and more than a few of them had been in law enforcement.

Handing someone your weapon was a trust thing, and basically she'd never trusted anyone she had dated as much as she did Hotch at this moment. So actually, right out of the gate they were already probably leaps and bounds ahead of any other relationship she'd ever had, because trust was a huge thing for her. Really, for anyone who was afraid of having his heart broken.

And that was basically everyone on the planet.

Hotch took a step closer and pulled her into a quick hug, "no," he kissed the top of her head before he stepped back and gave her a soft smile, "not dorky at all. I was kind of thinking the same thing."

Maybe she really was psychic. Or maybe they were much more compatible than he could have even hoped. Though they were starting to reach a certain unspoken rapport when they were working, he hadn't really expected for that to so quickly start to bleed into their personal life.

He felt a warmth spread through his chest . . . maybe this was meant to be.

Turning away from her, he went over and unlocked the deadbolt, looking back over his shoulder before he stepped out, "make sure you lock up behind me."

Emily smiled as she followed him over to the door, "roger that sir," she quirked her eyebrow up, "now do you want me to let you back in again?"

With an exasperated sigh he groaned, "Prentiss . . ."

She rubbed his bicep soothingly, "I know, you're just being cautious," she grinned, "and I'm just busting your balls. If you want to be my numero uno hombre then you better get used to it now. Which means you should know that I keep about eighty percent of my smart ass remarks to myself when we're on the clock."

Stunned, Hotch stared at her for a moment, "EIGHTY percent, _really_?" She nodded and with a bewildered shake of his head he stepped through the open door.

"It's hard to believe I've been getting off easy all this time."

/*/*/*/*/*

Emily whipped open the front door to find Hotch standing there with his bag slung casually over his shoulder. She gave him an incredulous look as she yanked him inside.

"What took so long! I was ready to start speed dialing you!"

He'd been gone almost forty minutes. If he hadn't had her gun she definitely would have gone looking for him. And she would have called his cell to see what the holdup was but then she was afraid she'd look all clingy and pathetic. It's not like she needed to know where he was every moment of the day. And forty minutes wasn't exactly like a call out the National Guard type emergency.

Still though, as soon as she'd come out of the bathroom to see that more than twenty minutes had passed since he'd left, she'd started pacing and hadn't stopped.

Seeing the look of concern on Emily's face, Hotch winced.

"I uh, ran home to get my guns." As he saw the concern suddenly morph to anger he quickly apologized, "I'm sorry, I obviously can see now that I should have called to tell you that."

Her face darkened.

"You're damn right you should have called to tell me that! Christ Hotch! What if I ran outside for a five minute errand and didn't turn up again for _forty-five_ minutes?!"

He pushed the door shut and dropped his bag on the floor as he looked over at her guiltily, "I would have been worried sick and quite upset with you right now."

And it was quite obvious that she was _very _upset with him right now. God he really had screwed up. It hadn't even occurred to him that she'd be concerned about where he was. But she was right, in the reverse he would have been having a fit.

And as he took in her angry stance, he debated about whether or not he should move any closer. But then her jaw twitched and he decided no, not a good idea yet. But he did need to fix this . . . so he put his hand out.

"I'm really sorry sweetheart," he said softly, "I didn't mean to make you worry. I'm just out of the habit of um . . ."

He paused for a second, making sure not to pick the wrong phrase here.

". . . being responsible to somebody else."

For a second he'd almost said, "having to check in," and then realized that she probably would have taken a swing at him.

Jaw clenching, Emily stared at Hotch for a moment.

He did seem genuinely remorseful . . . she started to feel her anger fading . . . and she really didn't want to fight. They were going to have misunderstandings, and growing pains. This moment would set the tone for how they handled them going forward.

Her eyes dropped down to his outstretched hand. She took two steps closer to loosely grasp his fingers before she shook her head.

"_Don't_ scare me like that again." She said sternly.

It felt a little strange bossing Hotch around but this was the new world order. Off duty he was just as responsible to her as she was to him.

He gave her a little smile as he squeezed her hand.

"I won't. I promise," he dipped his head down slightly as he flashed what his college girlfriend had dubbed, 'the puppy dog eyes,' "am I forgiven?"

It was slightly manipulative, but he wasn't about to end up on the couch the first night she asked him to sleep over.

Her lips twitched . . . it was hard to stay mad when he looked so damn cute. She tugged him forward until he was pressed against her front. Then she looked up at him with a little smile.

"I suppose."

He let out a sigh of relief . . . thank God. And then he stared at her for a moment, considering what had just happened.

"So," he bit the inside of his cheek, "first fight on our very first day. Is that good or bad?"

Hearing the worry in Hotch's tone, Emily reached up to touch his face.

"It's not our first day though. We've known each other for a long time. So I think it's good, I think it helps actually, that we're already at a point where we can fight and make up without it being a catastrophic event."

She leaned up on her tip toes, planting a quick smack on his lips. At his look of surprise she sighed.

"Yes," she rolled her eyes, "I know I said no kissing at all, but I think it would be bad luck to fight and not make up properly. The phrase is 'kiss and make up' not, 'stand there awkwardly and make up'."

Hotch's lips twitched slightly as his hands encircled Emily's waist.

"True," he answered slowly, "but do you really think THAT was a proper make up kiss?"

As long as she was putting this out there on the table, he was going to get a decent kiss out of it.

With a slight huff, Emily shook her head.

"No, no I don't. That was more like something I'd give my Grampa Wilbur."

Hotch said nothing more, he just let his eyebrow speak for him. And after a moment Emily sighed dramatically.

"Fine, one quick one, just so we don't jinx anything," she wagged her finger at him, "but just a quick one. This is for karmic purposes only."

He shook his head as he said seriously, "I swear to God I won't even enjoy it."

Seeing Emily's mouth quiver, Hotch flashed her a quick grin as the hand on her left hip slid around to the small of her back. His eyes locked with hers for a moment, and though he'd never admit it . . . not aloud anyway . . . he was a little nervous.

But he pushed that aside, telling himself to man up as he pulled her closer, and leaning down, gently pressed his lips to hers.

Not wanting to push his luck, he made sure to not be too persistent. He just closed his eyes and enjoyed the moment.

Emily's eyes closed and her fingers clenched his shirt as she was suddenly filled with a warm glow that spread out from her chest and through her body.

In principle it seemed a little strange to be doing this with Hotch . . . but in practice it was definitely the best first kiss she'd ever had. Whatever concerns she'd had about a kiss now not having any emotional resonance for her, seemed rather foolish.

Really, she had butterflies in her stomach and she couldn't remember the last time she felt so happy.

And as Hotch slowly pulled away, Emily's tongue involuntarily slipped out and licked her lips. She tasted the remnants of her chocolate ice cream and something new.

Something that she knew now was Aaron Hotchner.

She looked up at him with a beatific smile.

"Hi," she said softly.

Hotch's fingers traced the curve of Emily's jaw as he flashed back a dimple.

"Hi yourself." He whispered in response.

Okay, definitely would not have thought his royal screw up would have gotten him around the no kissing rule. She was right though, the phrase, 'kiss and make up' did exist for a reason. And that one was going to have to tide him over for a little while.

Unless . . . no, idiot. He couldn't pick a fight with her everyday just so he could get a makeup kiss.

_Good thought Aaron . . . make her think you're just an inconsiderate asshole. That will make her want to spend ALL of her free time with you!_

Emily stared at him for a moment longer, trying to decide if she should comment on how good the kiss was, and then decided to keep that thought to herself for the moment.

It was obvious from her reaction that she'd enjoyed it, so it's not like she was being disingenuous. She certainly didn't want to play any games with him. But she still wasn't sure if it would be a good idea if they started doing that all the time yet. Maybe just wait a couple more days so that she was sure that her reaction had been emotional and not chemical. After all, Hotch was a very attractive man, maybe those were her hormones reacting.

Yeah . . . she rolled her eyes internally . . . she was pretty sure that was complete crap. It's not like Hotch was the first good looking guy she'd ever kissed. Hell, she couldn't remember the last guy she'd dated that hadn't been attractive in his own right. Granted, Hotch took the cake on the looks front, but this was too important to screw up.

Another couple days would let her know for sure.

So she pushed aside all of her thoughts about kissing him again right now and instead cleared her throat.

"I'm ready to go to bed now if you are."

She'd changed, peed for the umpteenth time that day . . . .it wasn't even the baby yet, she was just drinking entirely too much water because the book told her too . . . and taken off her makeup while he was out. So basically she was good to go.

Hotch nodded as he leaned down to pick up his bag off the floor.

"Yep, I'm ready."

Then he crossed back to get the deadbolt on the door. Ordinarily he would have hit that as soon as he'd walked in, but he'd been a little distracted trying to make sure that he didn't screw up the first new relationship he'd had in twenty years.

Emily headed into the kitchen to get a glass of water and her mini bottle of ginger ale. And st Hotch's questioning look at her two fisted drink order, she tipped her head to explain.

"The water's for if I wake up in the middle of the night. The ginger ale is, as you know, to go with my morning crackers."

His lip quirked up.

"Right. And your crackers, do you want me to carry them for you?"

"That's okay," she shook her head, "I actually leave a box of them up in my room now. I'd leave the ginger ale there too but it gets all warm and gross."

After he'd taken both Emily's water and her then free hand, Hotch started towards the stairs.

"But," his brow wrinkled slightly as a thought occurred to him, "isn't it still warm when you wake up?"

"Well," she tipped her head, "it's not _cold._ But," she thought about it for a second, "well um, yeah, I guess it is warm. But not like, AS warm."

Somehow that seemed to be an important distinction. Though when she said it out loud, it had sounded kind of idiotic.

They had just gotten to the foot of the stairs and Hotch looked down at her with a little smile.

"How about you leave it in the fridge, and I'll get it for you in the morning? That way it will still be cold."

Emily's teeth sunk into her upper lip as she stared at Hotch for a moment. Then she asked softly. "You'd really do that for me?"

Surprised at her question, Hotch looked back quizzical eyebrow.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I do that for you?"

As grand gestures went he was pretty sure that climbing out of bed to get a pregnant woman a cold glass of ginger ale fell pretty low on the list. Though as he saw Emily's eyes watering slightly, he felt a little dig in his gut. He was realizing then that maybe it wasn't so low on the list for her. Because by all accounts, most of the men in her life hadn't been particularly solicitous to her feelings.

Bastards.

Feeling her eyes start to sting, Emily looked away and cleared her throat.

"Um, thanks," she let go of his hand, "I guess I'll just put this back in the fridge then."

God knew that she didn't want to start getting teary over a glass of ginger ale, but his offer had just taken her by surprise. Such a small gesture that would be so indicative of a life she could have with Hotch.

One where he was sweet to her all the time, and did nice things just because. It had been so long since she'd been in a relationship like that.

If ever.

But she'd like to think maybe once she had been . . . but had just forgotten. Because if that wasn't true, if nobody had ever been kind to her, then her life really would just be too sad to bear.

Now frantically blinking away the tears that were continuing to pool, Emily went to put her soda back in the fridge. When she returned to the staircase, Hotch was still waiting for her.

For just a moment, Hotch looked down at Emily. And then . . . without a word . . . he slipped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his side for the walk up the stairs.

Beyond that small gesture of support and affection, he decided to ignore her emotional response to his offer.

It would just embarrass her.

The fact that such a simple offer _had _touched her so deeply made him feel terribly sad. She should have been loved and cared for, a kind act from a lover . . . or in his case, soon to be lover . . . shouldn't be an occasion worthy of note. And though he felt sadness for her, he didn't feel pity. Never pity. She was too strong for that.

It would be a disrespectful to all that she had overcome to mock her strength in such a way.

It wasn't until they were almost at the top of the stairs that the full impact of what he was doing hit him. He was going to sleep in Emily's bed tonight. That wasn't the same as falling asleep together in a motel halfway across the country.

They were back in the real world now.

And the last time he'd been to her apartment, he hadn't gotten past the kitchen counter. Hell, she'd barely even let him in the door. That was less than a year ago and he'd still been married then.

Suddenly he had to shake his head to clear unwelcome thoughts of Haley. Then he refocused on the woman beside him.

The possibilities for their future were abundant.

When they got to the top of the stairs, Hotch let Emily take the lead because he wasn't sure where they were going. He could see there were a few doors off the upstairs hallway.

As they passed the first one and continued down the hall, he turned to her.

"How many bedrooms do you have?"

Now trusting that her emotions were back under control, Emily turned to Hotch with a faint smile.

"Two, the master plus the guest room," she gestured behind them, "that was a closet and up ahead on the left, that's the guest bathroom," she winked at him, "you can use mine though."

A ghost of a smile flitted across Hotch's face before he gave her a serious nod.

"I'm just grateful that you aren't making me sleep in the guest bedroom."

She led him into the master suite, looking up at him with an amused eyebrow.

"Ah, but how could I scramble on top of you in the middle of the night if you're WAY down the hall?"

He huffed as they entered her room and Emily gestured over to the low dresser.

"You can put your bag there if you want," she pointed to the large closet, "there's a hook on the back of the door so you can hang up your suit. And here," she gestured to the open door, "is obviously the bathroom. Help yourself to whatever."

For a second she flashed on the first time Chris was in her bedroom, having almost an identical conversation with him, but she quickly wiped that vision away. It was disrespectful to Hotch to even think of them with the same breath.

Hotch started settling in, first handing her Glock back to her, and Emily went over and put her gun and her water on the nightstand before she got into bed and flipped on the television. Wrinkling her brow she looked over at him hanging up his suit, "I usually sleep with the TV on low. Like white noise. Is that going to bother you?

She knew they had fallen asleep with the TV on last week but they were actually watching something then.

Shaking his head, he pulled his shaving kit out of his bag, "not at all," looking over, he gave her a sad smile, "when Haley and Jack moved out the house was so quiet I needed to fill the silence. I got used to leaving the television on then, sort of pretending there were still other people around. And I'm actually not sure if I could go back to it the other way again."

She gave him a relieved smile, "good. Well . . ."

Then she winced as she realized her fumble . . .

"Um," she stammered slightly, "of course not good that your wife left you and took your child, but good, that you're also used to sleeping with the television on." There was an awkward pause and then she sighed, "could we just scratch the first part of my response and pretend that I didn't stick my foot in my mouth like that?"

His expression softened as he looked over, "it's okay sweetheart, I know what you meant."

Emily had a kind heart and he knew that she'd never say anything deliberately cruel. And he also knew that the kind heart was making her beat herself up over a very human mistake.

Seeing the look of worry on her face he added right before he stepped into the bathroom, "and I've come to see that the divorce was probably for the best so please don't feel awkward if it comes up again," he cleared his throat before adding softly, "we really weren't happy anymore," and then he stepped into the bathroom and shut the door.

Eyes burning, Emily stared at the closed door for a moment.

Poor baby.

And moments like that made her worry about what would happen between them. He and his wife had been happy . . . and then they weren't. She knew the reasons he'd blamed for the demise of his marriage, but still, Emily worried that even if they could work something out between them that one day she would end up hurting him too.

The last thing she wanted to do was add more scar tissue on top of what Haley had already left. She just didn't want to make a mess of things. The tears started to pool and then run down her face. She quickly scrubbed at them, cursing under breath . . . she didn't want him to see her crying.

When Hotch came out of the bathroom a couple minutes later in his t-shirt and boxers she tried to plaster on a happy smile, but she could tell from the way he stopped short halfway across the room that he didn't believe it for a second.

"What's wrong?" Then he noticed the crimson around her eyes and he stepped closer as he asked worriedly, "why are you crying?"

She shook her head with a slightly watery smile, "just hormones I think," then she stared at him for a moment and shook her head, "no, that's not true. And I don't suppose this relationship will have much chance of success at all if I start lying to you about when I'm upset."

Hotch looked back at her for a moment and then sighed. With a shake of his head he climbed into bed and moved over to pull her against his chest as he whispered, "no, we'll be pretty much dead in the water if you do that. Why did you think you should lie?

Snuggling in closer, she sniffled against his chest, "I just didn't want you to worry. I had been thinking about your marriage and worrying that maybe things will go wrong with us too."

He rubbed his hand down her back as he said softly, "Emily, we've already . . ."

She cut him off, "no, I know," she looked up at him with a small smile, "I'm a worrier though. I wouldn't know what to do with myself if I didn't have something to worry about."

He stared at her for a moment before he nodded, "okay, I guess I did kind of know that from work. But just try NOT to worry about this one," he wiped away the stray tear rolling down her face, "believe me when I say, you are NOT my ex-wife, so things between us will not follow the same path."

Emily and Haley, with the exception of the superficial commonality of both of their names ending in the letter Y, really came from opposite ends of the female spectrum.

Her lip quirked up slightly and then she nodded and sniffed away the last of her tears, "okay."

After a moment of resisting the urge to kiss her again, something caught Hotch's ear and he looked up at the television, "are we watching Loony Tunes?"

Her eyes shifted up, "um yeah, that's what I usually put on. I used to watch them with my sister when we were little. It's like comfort food."

Then she realized it might be a little odd to ask a grown man to watch children's cartoons before bed so she looked over at him, "do you want me to put on something else?"

He shook his head, "no this is fine. I just wanted to make sure I knew what I was looking at," his eyes crinkled slightly as he looked back up at the screen, "I haven't seen Foghorn Leghorn in thirty years. He always reminded me of my high school biology teacher."

Pushing herself up slightly Emily started to giggle as she looked down at him, "your high school biology teacher reminded you of a giant chicken with a speech impediment?"

"Yes," he said absentmindedly as he stared past her at the flat screen on the wall.

Snorting slightly, she put her head back down on his chest and closed her eyes, listening to the adventures of Foghorn and his nephew. A few minutes later she felt Hotch rub his hand down her back before he whispered, "are you still awake?"

Still with her eyes shut she nodded against his chest, "uh, huh. What's up?"

He was silent for a moment and then he patted her back, "I was wondering if you'd talked to Dave yet about the baby."

Opening her eyes, she looked up at him in surprise, "no, actually with everything that happened with us, I totally forgot about that." Her nose wrinkled, "would it be cowardly of me to ask you to tell him?"

His brow creased, "no, no of course I'll do it if you'd prefer. But, why don't you want to tell him?" He paused for a second, "is it your Catholic connection? Do you think he's going to be bothered by the fact that you aren't married? Because I can tell you with complete confidence, Dave's not THAT religious."

Any man who had been divorced three times was clearly skating around the edge of The Church's views on the big sins.

She sighed, "no, it's not that. It's just that he's going to ask me questions, and I don't really wish to share the gory details of this situation with anyone else yet. Not until I absolutely have to, like when I start to show and there's a possibility that the wife is going to find out and cause a huge problem at work. But in the meantime I was thinking that if you don't mind, that maybe you could just hit the high points, that I'm pregnant, but not with Chris anymore and tell him I don't want to talk about it."

Seeing his slight look of puzzlement she slowly exhaled, "I know what you're thinking. If I'm not going to get into it anyway, then why can't I just tell him myself that I don't want to talk about it?"

Just as he was about to open his mouth she cut him off, "it's just that I know that if I have to start telling the story again, I'm going to end up either getting all defensive or all emotional," she pouted at him, "and I don't want to do either of those things. I just want to be a normal pregnant woman for two seconds. The one who just takes her congratulatory hug, pats her nonexistent stomach and answers the question about her due date before going back to her life."

Hotch's eyes crinkled slightly as he kissed her temple, "I understand. So yes, of course I will tell Dave for you and then afterwards you can come in and get your hug and pat your non-existent stomach."

With a smile she snuggled in closer, "thank you."

They were quiet for a moment and then she whispered, "are you going to tell him about us?"

Obviously this wasn't something they were planning on sharing with the world at large, but Hotch was really close with Dave. And if they were going to tell him about her pregnancy, it wouldn't surprise her if Hotch wanted to tell Dave the other news too.

Furrowing his brow, Hotch slowly ran his fingers up and down her arm, "well, I hadn't thought about it. And I don't really wish to share any details of my personal life, but I don't want to lie to him either. So I guess if he point blank asks the question, which he may given he's a nosy son of a bitch, then I'll tell him that we're . . . 'spending time together' or something.

Given how Dave had been trying to play matchmaker for the past six months, Hotch was pretty sure that was the first place his brain was going to go when Hotch told him that Emily was pregnant. He could hear him now, "is it yours?"

She nodded, her cheek brushing his t-shirt, "that sounds good. I don't want to lie either," she swallowed, "I feel badly enough about the little white lies I've been telling Derek."

Some part of her thought that maybe she should tell him next. But if she told Morgan, she was afraid that he would tell Garcia. The two of them were so close that it was kind of understood that a secret told to one, was going to go to both. And though Emily knew that he would keep her confidence if she asked him too, she really didn't want to put him in an awkward position with Penelope. Given how poorly Emily treated their friendship these past couple months it wasn't right to impose like that on him now.

No . . . she sighed . . . Dave made more sense for the reasons that Hotch had pointed out. He was going to be the first one to figure it out on his own, and he was second in command.

Hotch glanced down when Emily picked up his hand, intertwining their fingers before she said softly, "this might have been a fairly unconventional 'first date' but," she kissed the back of his knuckles, "I wanted you to know, stupid fight and all, I had fun tonight."

He kissed her forehead, "me too. Though maybe we can get together before next week's class and I could just make you dinner."

This was probably the most ass backwards relationship on the planet. No sex and no kissing but they were already sleeping together. Plus going to birthing classes as a first date activity. Though . . . he snorted to himself . . . they did stop and get ice cream on the way home. That was about the only normal new couple thing they did today.

Her head tipped back as she looked up excitedly, "you can cook?"

He nodded, "yep, though I hardly ever get to anymore. Basically I'm always grabbing meals on the run so the weekend is about the only time I could theoretically cook. But it's not like Jack is going to be interested in eating anything fancy," his eyes crinkled, "his favorite meal is tater tots with dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets."

Emily chuckled, "hey, that sounds pretty good to me."

Hotch smiled, "well, I'll make sure to keep stocked up in case you don't like my cooking."

Turning her head slightly she kissed his jaw, "I'm sure I'll love your cooking. And I think its sweet just that you're offering."

Feeling his face start to get warm he patted her back and turned his attention back to the giant chicken with the speech impediment.

/

_**The Next Afternoon**_

"Is it yours?"

Hotch's lips twitched for a second . . . as expected. But he immediately sobered up as he shot Dave a hard look, "NO, I am not the father of Emily's child."

Wrinkling his brow Dave stared at him for a moment, there was something he wasn't telling him. His gaze narrowed as he noticed Hotch fidgeting slightly at his stare.

That was odd, Hotch was never nervous. Not unless . . . and Dave suddenly noticed him touching the spot where he used to wear his wedding ring . . . and then he had it.

"But you two are involved now." He didn't even pretend to make it a question.

"God damn it!" Hotch looked over incredulously, "how do you do that?"

Rossi gave him a self satisfied smirk, "years of practice my friend," his expression softened, "that's good though. I'm glad. I couldn't stand that little prick she was going out with before. And obviously, if he's no longer in the picture then he couldn't even man up enough to take responsibility for his child. She's better off without him."

As Dave saw Hotch's brow darken he looked over with concern, "is there something there that you're not telling me?"

Hotch had just pulled him into his office at five to tell him that Emily was pregnant but that she didn't want to tell the rest of the team yet. That was it. He hadn't shared any more of the particulars. But given what a prick that guy had been, God knows what else there could be to the story.

Biting his lip Hotch stared at him for a moment, "yes, there is something that I'm not telling you. But she doesn't want to get into it now so we'll circle back around to this conversation in a couple months. Just please don't ask her any questions." Rossi nodded and Hotch gave the older man an imploring look, "really Dave, right now she just needs some support. Nobody else knows, not even her family, so she feels kind of isolated. And I know babies aren't really your thing, but if you could be excited for her, I would appreciate it."

Dave smiled, Hotch was falling fast. Then he nodded, "of course. And you know," he gave him a droll look, "just because I never had any rug rats of my own doesn't mean I'm not genuinely happy for her. Well," he tipped his head, "if she's happy," a thought came to him and he looked over worriedly, "she is happy about the baby, right?"

If she was keeping it, then he assumed that she was. Though Emily was Catholic, same as him, so she might have kept the baby whether she was happy or not.

A faint smile touched Hotch's lips as he nodded, "yes, she is very happy about Baby." Noticing the odd look Dave was giving him Hotch felt his face get hot, "uh Baby, capital B, that's what we call it. We don't know the um," he cleared his throat as he finished quickly, "gender, I'm just going to call Emily up now." Quickly turning away, he picked up his phone and started dialing her extension.

God! Hotch winced, he couldn't believe he'd just called Baby, BABY in front of Dave! So not manly!

Putting his hand over his mouth, Rossi tried to hide his amusement at Hotch's embarrassment.

Forget falling fast, the guy was already whipped.

/

Emily was tapping her pen anxiously on the corner of her desk. Morgan kept looking over at her questioningly but she tried to ignore it. God knows she didn't want to tell him even another stupid white lie so she was just going with a polite smile and studious avoidance.

Not exactly a solid long term plan for dealing with the situation. But . . . one thing at a time.

Dave had gone into Hotch's office a couple minutes ago and Hotch should be calling her any second to come up. Unfortunately she couldn't tell what was going on in there because Hotch had pulled the blinds in his office.

Her eyes snapped down to her caller ID as the desk phone started to ring . . . and there he was.

She picked up the receiver on the first trill, not even letting Hotch speak before she asked breathlessly, "now?" She heard the amusement in his voice as he responded, "uh, yes, now."

"On my way," she dropped the receiver back in the cradle, again ignoring Morgan's look, and hurried up the stairs, giving a perfunctory knock before she pushed the door open.

Besides Hotch, this was the first reaction she was getting to her new baby. It was pretty exciting.

Poking her head around the corner she saw Hotch behind his desk giving her a supportive smile and Dave turning towards her with a grin. Smiling back, she slipped inside and Dave immediately jumped up, waiting until she shut the door again before he went over and pulled her into a bear hug.

"CONGRATULATIONS HONEY!"

Emily laughed as he bounced her, "thanks Dave."

Okay, were the two of them drinking up here? Dave usually only tossed her around like a rag doll in the bar when he was halfway through a bottle of Glen Livet.

Hotch rolled his eyes at the display in front of him as he said drolly, "she still has morning sickness so you really should be careful how much you jostle her there Rossi."

Christ, he asked for supportive not maniacal!

Dave and Emily both chuckled as Dave put her back on the ground. Then he looked down at her with a grin, "you're not going to throw up on me, right?"

She smiled back, "no, not today." Putting his hand on her shoulder, Dave escorted her over to the visitor's chair, "so when are you due?"

He wasn't quite sure why Hotch didn't think he knew how to react to new baby news. After all, he had been on the planet for a few dozen decades!

Emily and Hotch shared a quick knowing look before her attention went back to Dave and she patted her non-existent stomach, "November 4th. I have a ways to go yet."

Dave nodded and then leaned down to kiss her cheek, "well, I'm really happy for you. And if you need anything just let me know. Hotch told me you'd rather not tell the whole crew yet so trust me your secret's safe," his brow furrowed as he looked between Emily and Hotch, "are you staying in the field?"

They both nodded but Hotch answered, "for now. That's the other reason I, uh," he coughed to cover his faux pas, "Emily wanted to tell you. I'd prefer to keep her partnered up with one of us for the time being. Her nausea does sometimes last longer than just the early hours."

Emily cut in, "but Hotch keeps me in ginger ale and unsalted saltines. And that usually keeps things on an even keel."

Mouth quivering Dave looked down at her, "I guess when we're partnered I too will have to stock up on unsalted saltines and ginger ale then, huh?"

Before Emily could answer Hotch interjected drily, "trust me Dave, you don't want to start taking over any of Emily's food bills. You couldn't afford it with your three alimonies."

Dave laughed as he saw the scowl Emily shot across the desk. Yeah, they were definitely dating. She turned back to him with a polite smile, "thank you Dave but I believe that I," she shot Hotch another look, "am good for now." Then her mock irritation was forgotten as she added with a cheerful smile, "and the morning sickness does seem to be tapering off a little bit."

She still kept the crackers in her system for good measure, but the nausea seemed to come a little less frequently. Though she was now starting to get heartburn, but she didn't much feel like sharing that with the guys.

Hotch gave her a soft smile in return, "yep, you are going into the second trimester soon so hopefully you'll be feeling better."

Though as he thought back on Haley's second trimester he remembered that she basically wanted to have sex all the time. Hmm . . . that probably wasn't a group standard, but nonetheless, he and Emily better figure out where they were going before they had an awkward moment.

Seeing the looks the other two were exchanging, Dave started to feel like he was intruding and he cleared his throat, "well, I'm going to head out," he winked at Emily, "I've got a hot date."

The one and only Roxanne. His recurrent flame that lit up when both of them were between relationships.

She laughed, "good for you, old man such as yourself still out and trying enjoy the years you have left."

Hearing Hotch snort Rossi shot them both a dirty look, "and here I was trying to be nice and supportive of your baby and," he gave Emily a knowing look, "your _relationship_, and this is the thanks I get."

Biting her lip, she stood up with a contrite smile, "I'm sorry, I was just teasing," she opened her arms, "give me another hug, but don't throw me around this time."

As Dave squeezed Emily lightly, he whispered in her ear, "yeah the big dog will probably shoot me if I do that again."

Chuckling slightly she whispered back, "he just might. He did threaten to firebomb my Lamaze class because they were mean to me."

That probably should have been her first clue that he might have possibly had feelings for her.

Rossi barked a laugh, turning to Hotch with his arm still around Emily's shoulders, "you threatened to _firebomb_ her Lamaze class?"

With an indignant huff Hotch looked back at him, "well I didn't actually bring the grenades _with_ me. It was just a possibility I mentioned to Prentiss in the car. But they were assholes so," he gave Emily a knowing look, "I refuse to think that we should feel badly about making them nervous about anything."

As Emily gave him a shy smile he winked back at her before he looked up at Dave.

Dave scowled, "well, if they were assholes then obviously they deserved whatever they had coming."

Not that Dave condoned the firebombing of pregnant women, no matter how mean they'd been to Emily, but he was pretty sure he'd react pretty badly to seeing her upset too. And he was obviously not nearly as attached to her as Hotch now was.

Hotch tipped his head, "I'm glad you see my point."

This is why he and Dave were friends.

With a huff Rossi let go of Emily and headed towards the door, calling back over his shoulder.

"Okay guys, I'll see you in the morning."

They both called out, "night Dave," watching as he stepped out and shut the door behind him. They were silent for a moment and then Emily looked back at Hotch hopefully, "do you think just this once we could make an exception?"

He stared at her for a moment before giving a barely perceptible nod. She grinned, hurrying over to lock the door as he stood up and walked around the desk. They met in the middle of the small room and he smiled as he pulled her into a hug and kissed the top of her head.

"This is a onetime only though, okay?"

As much as he'd love to do this every day, they just couldn't get caught in a clinch in the office.

She nodded happily, "I know. I promise not to ask again but I'm just excited," she slipped her hands under his jacket and her arms around his waist, "I wanted a hug."

It was kind of silly that she could get bear hugs from Rossi and it was fine, but essentially the same behavior with Hotch was inappropriate because of their new relationship. But whatever she could get she'd take. She inhaled deeply, smelling his fading aftershave and his omnipresent Hotchness, before she leaned back with a slight pout, "I suppose you have to work late tonight?"

It was probably too much to hope that she could get him over two days in a row.

His nose wrinkled, "I do, I'm sorry. That damn training got me completely behind."

Seeing the look of disappointment Emily quickly tried to hide Hotch felt a stab of guilt. And then he remembered his promise to himself to not make the same mistakes with Emily that he had with Haley. So he turned slightly so he could see his desk, then he patted her back, "well, if you don't mind me bringing some files home, maybe I could cut out in about twenty minutes. We could stop at the store and pick some stuff up for dinner," he smiled at her, "I'll make you a celebratory meal in honor of Baby's introduction to another member of the team. How's that sound?"

Her eyes started to burn as she looked up at him . . . he really might just be the most wonderful man on the planet. And now she was quite sure about her reaction last night to the kiss. That was definitely the real deal, so henceforth she was adding kissing to the list of regularly approved activities. And as much as she'd love to grab his tie and tug him down to her right now, unfortunately they were in the office. As was evidenced by their dating rules, hugs were one thing . . . kisses were something else entirely.

So instead she gave him a watery smile as she whispered back.

"That sounds perfect."

_A/N 2: They are still going slow but I was clear that the kissing thing would be on the table shortly. And Hotch is so damn perfect, with the special meal for Baby, really how is she going to resist that kind of wooing? _

_Arc, you'll notice the one commonality between Emily and Haley came from you darlin' :) And seriously, I think you said that like a year ago! But it popped in my head when I was writing._

_I liked the idea in this one of Hotch being the one to break out 'the eyes' as a slightly manipulative way of getting out of trouble. It's the flip of what Emily does over in Girl with the pout when she wants something from him._

_Yeah, she does need to have a serious talk with Morgan but we aren't anywhere near resolving that yet. Though I think maybe next week they'll actually talk, or Morgan will anyway, but trust me, things will get worse on that front before they get better. _

_I thought the little fight was important because I don't want them to be too lovey dovey and falling right into this perfect thing. They're both coming at this last week saying "I'm a mess." So this occasionally needs to be a little messy. They're going to screw up. Him just not thinking to call her, and then her sticking her foot into her mouth talking about the divorce and then starting to lie to him about being upset. Their transitional period is to see if they can work through all these things and that's what we're trying to do. If you have ideas for new relationship screwups, or awkwardness, like the not calling thing, or lying about your feelings (always a bad idea) please feel free to pass them along. I don't want to just put in all of my own, that would feel way too autobiographical and I'd look like a complete spaz :)_

_The baby website said heartburn turns up around 11 weeks, basically just as the morning sickness starts to fade. That sucks! I knew it was a common problem through pregnancy but I didn't realize it started that early. _

_Their new little Lamaze friends, the Army captains, I THINK I'm going to include them in both Mirror and Chances. Seeing as they're through the looking glass worlds, I kind of like the idea of them making friends with the same couple, in the same circumstances, in both worlds. So those characters, at least "Maura" will get fleshed out a bit more. It's kind of fun to occasionally write an original character. It's kind of like practice for "real" writing. Which of course, this is not. This is fic writing. Very different, but good practice nonetheless :)_

_It's common knowledge that I love me some Rossi. And he does seem like a bear hug kind of guy. But I could also see Hotch rolling his eyes. Actually I think that's what I enjoy about their friendship on the show, one's so reserved and the other's so expressive. And if you read Girl, you know that Rossi's "dating" Roxanne (euphemism for the occasional booty call) over there too. I've decided that Roxanne looks like Lesley Ann Warren. Older, but still sexy, saucy kind of gal. I see a recurrent squeeze of Rossi's just being somebody who was just fun._

_I have nothing else written in like any story. So God knows when I'll be posting again. But I think next time here, we'll have a convo between Emily and Morgan and we'll show her having her little get together with the Army woman. Anything else you want to see for Week 12, just pass it along. I don't think there are any major baby milestones (at least not that I saw on the websites) but if there is something for that transitional first to second trimester, please give me a heads up and I'll add it in. I think about 16 weeks she can get the sex of the baby._


	10. A House Divided

**Author's Note**: I didn't exceed the wordage from the last one but still a very heft read :) I ended up skipping over Week 12 and popping right to Week 13. The reasons for that will become more evident as you read the chapter but essentially, there is much angsting for both Hotch and Emily (separate particular problems) and I wanted them to be a bit more solidified as a couple so they'd have one another to lean on during their difficulties.

So as Hotch will tell you at some point in this chapter, it has been 21 days since that morning in Montana when Emily agreed to give them a shot.

* * *

_Week 13_

**A House Divided**

Emily snorted milk out of her nose as she started to laugh.

"Dave you're a pig!"

Rossi had just told her a _very_ off color story about his first undercover assignment as a rookie. It was in a brothel. Or at least according to him it was in a brothel.

For all she knew he could have made the whole thing up.

Watching Emily chortle milk resulted in a guffaw from Dave. Then he watched her rub her nose and hiss, "gah! Stupid milk burns." So he quickly passed her a napking while she shot him a mock glare.

"I'm telling Hotch you injured me."

Rossi smirked, "hey, I was only told to get you out of the office. I was not warned that you had a," he gestured to the milk stain she was now scrubbing off of her blazer, "drinking problem."

Emily rolled her eyes as she turned back to the stain on her jacket.

Hotch's mom had taken a bad fall a couple days ago and he'd flown down to Charleston yesterday to see her. Emily knew that Rossi was on strict instructions from their boss/her boyfriend to make sure that she took at least two breaks a day. So to that end, the last two days had seen Dave taking her out for both her morning cup of half caf, and treating her to lunch as well.

Lunch with Dave was a very different experience than lunch with Hotch.

Not that she wasn't having a good time with Dave. She was. But she was pretty sure that Hotch wouldn't approve of the stories that his old friend was telling her. And she'd come to that conclusion because probably half of them had concluded with her either calling Dave a pig, or throwing something at his head.

Though she had to hand it to him, the man could duck. But that was probably due to years of practice with all of those ex-wives.

Still though . . . she shot him a quick grin . . . she appreciated what he was doing, trying to keep her distracted with stories about hookers named Trixie and strippers named Bubbles. All so she wouldn't miss Hotch while he was out of town.

It was actually really sweet . . . in Dave's own warped, sick, 'quite obvious why he's been divorced three times,' kind of way.

But he was keeping her distracted, and he did make her laugh. As evidence, her mouth started to quiver again as she heard his newest question.

"I am NOT telling you if Hotch likes to cuddle!" She huffed back while balling up her dirty napkin and throwing it at his head.

God . . . what was WRONG with the man!? Did he have a death wish!?

Rossi deftly avoided the paper projectile while continuing to eye her over his cup of coffee.

"So that's a yes?" He asked mischievously.

Hotch had just told him not to ask any questions about the ex-boyfriend. At no point did Hotch specifically tell him not to ask any questions about _him_.

Feeling her cheeks start to burn, Emily shot Dave a Hotch worthy glare.

"You do know that if I tell him you asked me that question, he's going to kill you?"

Dave chuckled as he put his coffee back down on the table.

"It wasn't a sex question. He'd kill me for a sex question. That was just a general 'none of my business but I figured what the hell I'll ask anyway' question. And I have already deduced from that lovely shade of pink you turned a moment ago that the answer is indeed," he smirked, "yes."

It was fun teasing Emily. The poor kid had obviously been having a hard time of it these past few months. Dave had noticed something had been off with her and now he knew what it was. Or at least he knew part of what it was. Clearly there was more to the story than she or Hotch had told him.

But her mood had definitely turned around over the past few weeks, which was clearly around the time when she and Hotch had gotten together personally. It was just nice now to see her in genuinely good spirits.

Hotch too.

Dave would say it was like the old days, but it seemed like the team always had some sort of drama or crisis going on so he couldn't really say the last time the whole crew really seemed . . . happy.

When Dave had calculated back on Emily's due date he'd realized the connection with those weeks he'd noticed her looking pale and tired. For a while he was convinced she was ill, but then she'd started to look better so he'd chalked it up to a late winter cold.

As it turned out . . . from what she'd told him at lunch yesterday . . . those were the early days of her pregnancy when she was cutting back on her caffeine and figuring out how not to throw up five times a day.

He was kind of glad they'd opted not to pull him into the loop until the vomiting stage was over. And now Emily was smirking at him.

"Shows what you know big shot profiler. That's just my new 'pregnancy glow."

It was a rather pathetic attempt at misdirection, but still, it was worth a shot. She doubted Dave would fall for it but if Hotch ever found out that she'd accidentally told Dave that he liked to cuddle, well . . . that would be bad.

Dave snorted.

"I'm about as likely to believe that, as you are to believe that my beer gut is in fact my own upcoming bundle of joy."

As hard as she tried to keep glaring at him, Emily's mouth started to twitch and then she burst out laughing.

"You'd be as famous as that shemale who claimed she was a man giving birth!"

Rossi leaned over the table.

"Yeah what was up with that?! She had female . . ."

Suddenly he was cut off by somebody tapping on the glass. Both she and Dave turned to see Morgan on the other side waving.

The smile on Emily's face froze . . . and she knew it morphed into something not so pretty, because Morgan's own smile fell away completely. And then Dave shot her an odd look before he raised his hand to Derek.

Morgan stared at the two of them for a moment and then he tipped his head once and went on his way.

Rossi threw twenty bucks onto the table as he looked over at Emily in confusion.

"What the hell was that look between you two? You would have thought he was your husband, and you'd just been caught having an affair with the pool boy."

With a hard swallow, Emily stared down at the speckled linoleum tabletop, debating as to whether she should just tell Dave the problem.

Oh . . . she scrubbed her hand over her mouth . . . what the hell. He was already in the loop on their two secrets, might as well take advantage of having another person's take on her situation.

And Dave had been around the block so many times maybe he'd have an idea to help her fix things.

She leaned forward slightly.

"I've been avoiding him since I found out I was pregnant," she whispered across the table, "he never liked . . ." she sighed, "well Morgan never likes ANY of my boyfriends. And I certainly didn't want to tell him about . . ."

And she stopped, realizing she was about to start talking about something she didn't walk to talk about.

So with a quick shake of her head, she continued on.

"Doesn't matter. The point is I didn't want to tell him about the baby at first for one reason, and then I started lying to him about why I couldn't go out after work or on the weekends," she sighed, "and now I've been lying to him for so long that things have gotten all weird. And I don't know how to make things right. Especially given that Hotch and I are together now," she rolled her eyes in exasperation, "and I'm quite sure Morgan isn't going to approve of _that_ either. Like I said, he's never approved of any of my boyfriends."

It was kind of like having a big brother. Or at least she thought it was, it's not like she'd ever had a brother, big or little. Either way though, the bottom-line with Derek was that he was _very_ overprotective. Sometimes she thought it was sweet, sometimes it pissed her off, but she always knew that he meant well.

But knowing his reaction to the men in her past was not in any way an endorsement for telling him what was going on in her life now.

It was the exact opposite really.

Still though, that didn't stop her from looking over at at Dave hopefully.

"I don't suppose you have any suggestions on what I should do?"

Rossi stared at Emily for a moment. Trying to decide if he should tell her what had been obvious to him since Christmas.

Morgan was in love with her.

All of the blustering about the men in her life, watching her when she slept on the plane. The way he teased her, how cranky he was when Hotch started to pair off with her. To Dave it was obvious what was going on . . . but it was clear that Emily didn't seem to have a clue about it.

Though as he'd recently discovered, she did have quite a few distractions these past couple of months. And before that she would have actually been going out with the jackass. So it would be pretty understandable if the thing with Morgan had gone right over her head.

But now Dave was starting to wonder if Hotch had noticed Morgan's behavior either, because it seems like Hotch would have told Emily if he had.

They were a couple now, and couples discussed things.

Though as Dave thought about it, he realized that it was possible that Hotch didn't know either. He had sort of closed himself off from the others during the separation and divorce. In fact, he'd only really started to come out of his shell the past few months.

The same window when he and Emily started spending time together.

And apparently, as Dave just discovered, when she started avoiding Morgan. So yeah, now Dave was pretty sure that neither Hotch nor Emily realized how big their problem was here. And Dave sure as HELL wasn't going to be the one to break it to them. At least not Emily, she didn't need any more stress.

It wasn't good for the baby . . . but they still needed to know. Eh . . . Dave huffed to himself . . . maybe he'd tell Hotch when he got home.

But he needed to answer the woman in front of him. So he just gave her a sad smile as he shook his head.

"Sorry honey," he began sliding out of the booth, "I don't have any suggestions for you on that one."

Emily sighed as she too stood and they started towards the door.

"It was too much to hope for," she looked over at him, "thanks for lunch though."

Dave smiled, "anytime Em," he put his arm around her shoulders, "anytime."

/*/*/*/*

"Em, hold up."

Emily had just hit the locks for her car, but hearing's Morgan's voice she froze . . . shit! Turning back to him, she looked over with what she hoped was a nice smile.

"What's up Morgan?"

After what had happened at lunch today it probably shouldn't have surprised her that he'd come after her. Though she was really hoping that he wanted to ask her something about work, she knew that was just foolishness.

She had become so uncomfortable around Derek lately that she was basically avoiding him all the time. And she knew it was starting to bleed into their interactions at the office.

The whole thing was so stupid.

She'd had her reasons for keeping her situation from him in the beginning. But now that she'd waited so long, and so many things had happened with Hotch, she was pretty sure that if she told Derek the truth now, it would just completely blow up in her face.

Morgan jogged the last few yards across the parking garage, stopping a few feet away from where Emily was standing by her car.

For a moment he just stared at her, seeing her tight smile and registering her clear discomfort at being caught alone with him. His heart clenched as he looked around to make sure that they were alone.

"Girl, did I _do_ something?" He asked with a tone approaching a quiet desperation, "because I don't understand why you've been acting like I've got the frigging plague."

She'd been avoiding him for weeks. Really . . . if he was honest with himself . . . it was months. But at first he'd thought she was just genuinely busy. But then he'd hear her talking to Reid about a documentary that she'd watched or an article she'd read. And then two weeks ago it was her and JJ on the plane talking about shoe shopping with Baby Girl the week before. So clearly she wasn't _that_ busy.

And she was still acting normally with the others.

And then Derek started to realize that even though Emily no longer had any time for him, that she _always_ had time for Hotch. They'd been pairing off a lot lately. And Hotch had even taken her on two major interviews in the past month.

Even though the second one . . . the _overnight_ one . . . that should have been Reid's turn.

But Morgan had tried to brush off those little creeping tendrils of jealousy, by telling himself that Hotch was the boss. If the boss wanted to take her with him then he must have had a good reason. And the fact that the two of them had been spending so many of their breaks together lately . . . well, if the boss wanted to talk to you, then you talked.

So after a few weeks of driving himself crazy thinking they were having an affair, Morgan had pretty much gotten his wild imagination under control. Convincing himself that there was nothing going on between the two of them.

Hotch wouldn't date someone on his team.

Their boss was a stickler for the rules, and he would never approve of such a blatant violation of the anti-fraternization policy. And because of that . . . because Morgan was sure of Hotch's complete intolerance for inter-team romances . . . Derek had kept his growing feelings for Emily, to himself.

Not only was fraternization against the rules, Morgan had also felt that his friendship with Emily was too important to risk screwing up. Next to Baby Girl, Emily was the only other close, healthy, adult relationship that Morgan had with a member of the opposite sex. But then all of a sudden . . . that relationship was gone.

Taken away.

She'd stopped talking to him, she'd stopped spending time with him, she'd made up transparent excuses for why they couldn't even have dinner together.

Hell they barely even worked together anymore! For the past couple months Hotch had been pairing him off with JJ or Reid, and Emily off with himself or, more recently, Rossi. Not once had Morgan gone on an interview with Emily since the cherry blossoms had bloomed.

And Derek started to wonder if maybe that wasn't an accident. Maybe Emily had asked Hotch to separate them.

But for the life of him he couldn't figure out why.

But he kept telling himself that there had to be a good reason for her treating him like this. Because Emily wasn't mean spirited by nature . . . she was a sweetheart. So he must have said something, or done something that had really upset her.

Maybe his teasing . . . or his comments on the men in her life . . . had gone too far. They'd gone too far and he hadn't even realized it.

So he had been trying to give her her space. To not pressure her anymore. Every couple of weeks though, he'd forget. And he'd fall back on the old days and he'd ask her out again. And again she'd say "sorry, no, I have to . . ."

It didn't matter what she said after that . . . he always knew the rest of the sentence was a lie. Still, he'd been letting it go.

But the last straw had been when he'd seen her out with Rossi getting lunch.

That afternoon Derek had been walking past the diner a few blocks over from the Academy and he'd seen them through the window . . . they were laughing.

She was laughing.

And she looked so happy that he thought it was a perfect moment to maybe try again. So he'd knocked on the glass . . . and waved. But when she looked over and saw him, she froze. And then he got the same tight, awkward smile he was getting right now. He'd felt a stab in his gut then. Because it had become painfully clear that whatever was going on . . . it wasn't going to just go away on its own.

And now that he'd come out and simply asked her point blank, she wass staring at him like a deer in headlights. The seconds had been ticking by them while he watched her jaw open and close . . . once . . . twice.

But still no sound came out.

Emily was in a blind panic. Though she'd known that eventually Derek would come straight out and ask her what was going on, she'd become so adept at avoiding spending time alone with him that somehow she'd thought she could push that conversation off for another couple months. Until it was time to tell everyone anyway.

And then all the chips would fall at once.

So she sure as hell wasn't ready to talk NOW! Now in the middle of the freaking parking garage! She didn't have a clue what to say. And oh God . . . she did NOT want to lie to him again!

Twice she opened her mouth to answer him . . . but no words would come. And she could see the pain and confusion on his face, and she felt terrible, but she didn't know what to do. She'd never been so paralyzed with indecision. Her options were to hurt him with her silence . . . or to hurt him with her words.

What kind of choice was that?

As they stood there in the parking garage, inches apart, they might as well have been on opposite sides of the planet. Part of her wanted to just blurt it all out, like ripping off a band aid and then they would only have to deal with the pain once. And she was so tempted to just throw down all of her cards and be done with it.

'_I'm pregnant with my shit ex-boyfriend's baby. He's married by the way, turns out he's kind of violent too. Oh yeah, and his wife works here. And now I'm involved with our boss. You know the recently divorced, very scary man who reamed you out for ten minutes on Monday for coming in late to the briefing. And you looked so hurt that he did it in front of everyone because it was only two minutes and you didn't know why he was so upset that you to run to the bathroom. _

_But what you didn't know was that he hated himself for snapping at you, and he wanted to apologize, but he couldn't. Because then he would have had to tell you something about his personal life. That he was worried and distracted because his mom had wandered away from her nursing home and had fallen and broken her hip. He was upset about that, and feeling guilty that he wasn't there, and feeling worse that he didn't even have the time to fly down to see her when it happened. _

_So rather than bottling it all up like he usually does, he took all of that out on you. _

_And he doesn't know how to fix that . . . just like I don't know how to fix this.' _

She heard it all in her head . . . and wanted so badly to open her mouth . . . but still she stood there like a fool.

_'JUST SAY **SOMETHING**!'_ She screamed in her head.

Her hand clenched into a fist and she cleared her throat.

"Morgan I . . . I . . ."

And then she took the coward's way out and lied again.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

The words came out smooth, like silk. But the moment they left her mouth she knew it was the worst possible thing that she could have said. Morgan had always been an open book to her, and she could see the flash of pain on his face before he looked down. And when he looked back up his eyes were glistening. And when he spoke, his voice was hoarse.

"You know Emily I had thought we were friends. Partners. But it's obvious that I've done something to upset you, and I'd think that if our friendship meant anything to you at all that you'd tell me what was wrong so we could work it out. But obviously . . ."

Feeling the tears starting to pool in her own eyes, Emily cut him off.

"We _are_ friends Morgan," she insisted, "we ARE!"

And then in her desperation to try and make amends for her last mistake, she reached over and grabbed his arm . . . and ended up lying again.

"You're my best, friend!"

But that time her voice caught on the last word . . . and it was obvious that it was a lie. Because Morgan wasn't her best friend anymore.

Hotch was.

And the part of her brain that loved Derek, that wanted to stop lying to him . . . betrayed her. And her thoughtless words . . . said with only the best of intentions . . . were just a mockery of their prior relationship. For over two years he truly was her closest confidante. He was the first one to befriend her, to make her feel like part of their team.

Their family.

Even before Hotch trusted her to watch his back, Derek had called Emily his partner. And she'd repaid those kindnesses by treating him like shit for months.

What a bitch.

And her heart broke just a little more when she saw him flinch and jerk his arm away from her. Then he put his hand up and closed his eyes.

"Please, don't," he shook his head, "just . . . don't."

God . . . why did he decide to confront her about this at work? Anyone could walk past and see him about to start bawling.

Why did it feel like he was breaking up with a woman he wasn't even dating?

Feeling the anger begin to rise up, Morgan swallowed over the lump in his throat.

"I can't believe after all these weeks of avoiding me, and lying to me, that you're going to stand there and pretend that we're still," he mimed air quotes as he said scornfully, "best friends," he scowled, "whatever the hell that means."

As he saw the tears starting to run down her face, he ignored the pain they caused him and kept right on going. Because he was hurt, and pissed off and he had something to say.

"You took away your friendship without apparently one thought as to how that might make me feel."

Seeing that Emily was about to open her mouth, he shook his head angrily.

"No Em, you didn't want to talk before so now I get to instead. I get to say my peace and you just listen."

Emily choked back a sob as she nodded, "okay."

As angry as he was, Derek couldn't stand to see her cry, so he had to look slightly past her as he continued.

"If you were acting strangely with everyone it would be one thing, but it's obvious that it's just me that you're having a problem with. And if you can't even be honest enough . . . scratch that, you don't even CARE enough, to tell me that to my face, then, well," his eyes filled, "I don't know where that leaves us."

Knowing that the God damn tears were going to start leaking in a second, Morgan didn't even give her a chance to respond as he quickly turned and jogged back towards the staircase.

He'd be damned if he got caught crying on the security cameras.

Emily's voice broke as she called after him.

"Derek please . . . wait! I'm sorry!"

Oh Christ . . . she wiped her hand across her face . . . now she'd really fucked things up! And she almost went after him, but she still didn't know what the hell to say. It was obvious to her how much she'd truly hurt him. And telling him now that she'd actually been lying to him for going on four months about practically everything in her life, was that going to make things better?

No.

It was just going to make them worse. Though at this point she wasn't even sure how that was possible. Even if she could find the right words, she didn't know if things could be fixed.

Her relationship with Morgan might be damaged beyond repair.

And as she stood there, hating herself for the mess that she'd caused, all she wanted was Hotch. But he'd flown down to see his mom yesterday and he wouldn't be home until later.

Stifling a sob that was bubbling up, Emily wiped her hand across her face as she let herself into her car. After she'd locked the doors she pulled out her cell phone.

She stared at it.

In that moment she missed Hotch so much that her chest ached. It was almost impossible to believe that they'd only begun their relationship a few weeks earlier.

_Whatever had she done without him?_

And with the tears still sliding down her face, she hit the speed dial and put the phone to her ear.

It rang once . . . and then the call dropped. She tried again and the same thing happened.

And she started to cry harder.

_God damn it! Was it so much to ask the fates for thirty seconds of comfort from her boyfriend?!_

No sooner had the thought come to her, than the phone began to vibrate in Emily's hand. Through her tears, she saw "Hotch" flashing on the screen.

_Thank God!_

She pressed the button, and with a little sob cried into the phone.

"I miss you!"

Hearing the tears in Emily's voice, Hotch stopped short in the middle of the corridor.

"Sweetheart what's wrong?" He asked worriedly.

Hotch had been walking through the airport when he hit a small dead zone for cell service. But when he saw the missed call was Emily, he'd tried her back, assuming she wanted to find out what time he was landing. He'd talked to her that morning when she went for coffee and everything was fine. Dave was taking her out to lunch and Hotch had told her he'd call when he got into Dulles.

But obviously now something else had happened.

Emily sniffled.

"I just had an awful fight with Morgan. And Hotch I hurt him so much and I don't know what to do! I've been lying to him for so long and then I said something really stupid today and now I've made it ten times worse," her voice cracked, "and I wish you were home because I miss you and I want a hug."

Hotch winced slightly at the pain in her voice. Then he moved out of the pedestrian area and over to the wall while whispering back.

"I miss you too sweetheart and I'll be home soon. My flight's boarding in a few minutes and we land at 7:35. I was going to go straight to my place but if you want I can come over tonight."

He'd had such a shitty day that if she hadn't called him he probably would have asked if he could come over tonight anyway.

She bit her lip and sniffled again.

"Yeah, if you don't mind I really would like to see you," then she started to feel like she was looking a little clingy, "I mean I know you've only been gone a day, but . . ."

"But what?" Hotch cut her off gently. "Didn't Reid just teach us last month that a day is the entire life cycle of a may fly?" His eyes crinkled as he added softly, "a day's an eternity."

He had really missed her. And he knew that was pathetic, but he didn't realize how just seeing her made a difference in his mood. Even when they couldn't spend time together after work, at least they had those few hours during the day.

And on the weekends he had Jack to lift his spirits.

But not seeing either of them at all, especially when he was stressed out dealing with his mother's situation. Once he'd realized how much worse her dementia was . . . he'd just wanted Emily there with him.

Four years ago his mother had been diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer's. She'd moved in with one of her widowed sisters, it was only a temporary fix to the problem because a year later he'd had to put her in a rest home.

He'd hated himself for it, but there was no longer any way to keep her safe outside of a locked facility. She was starting to wander off from his aunt's house, getting lost for hours until the police would find her dazed on the side of the road.

Though Hotch had wanted to bring her up to Virginia so he could see her more often, she still had good days. And she'd had enough of her faculties left to be clear about her wishes.

Charleston was her home, and that's where she wanted to stay.

So Hotch had respected that, and found her the best facility he could down there. It was a nice place, and her two sisters visited almost every day. So even after it got to the point that his mother wouldn't have been aware that he'd moved her, he had decided to leave her in South Carolina.

Realizing that not only was the routine she had important to her well being, but also that there was no way that he could get over to see her as often as his aunts were now. Christ, he was lucky if he was home every weekend for visitation with his son. Given the hours that he worked, adding a daily visit to a nursing home would have been impossible.

Up here he would have neglecting her, but down there she still had family with her almost every day. She was better off in Charleston.

At least that's what he told himself each month as he guiltily wrote the check to Rolling Hills.

Emily's eyes started to burn again as she smiled softly.

"That's what I was thinking too."

Even though it had only been a few weeks, she was starting to depend on Hotch emotionally in a way that she hadn't depended on anyone before. He made her happy. It was simple as that.

Hotch just made her feel happy.

He was considerate and thoughtful, and he did sweet things for her. Getting the ginger ale for her in the morning, making her dinner, getting up early to make her breakfast . . . rubbing her feet. And when he had to go into work before her, she always woke up to find a note on her pillow that brought tears to her eyes.

Without a doubt, he was the best boyfriend that she'd ever had. The best boyfriend she could _imagine_ having. And he'd only been gone thirty-six hours and she'd missed him like he'd been gone a month.

And that terrified her.

These were not feelings she was used to having for anyone. She was used to being independent, not leaning on anyone too much. Certainly not a man. That was due to years of having the rug pulled out from under her time and again.

Thinking that finally _this_ relationship might last, only to discover that the guy was really a jerk.,

And some part of her was still waiting for that moment with Hotch. That moment when he would tell her that he was coming over that night . . . but then he wouldn't show up for three days. Or he'd pick a fight over something stupid just so he could yell at her, or she'd find a pair of women's underwear in his backseat that didn't belong to her.

She knew that he would never do any of those things. But she couldn't make that little voice in the back of her head . . . self preservation . . . believe what her heart already knew.

He was a good man.

Hearing his flight being called, Hotch's ears perked up. Then he started walking towards his gate again.

"Sweetheart, they're calling my flight now so I'm going to have to run in a second but I'll see you in a couple hours. You go home and take a nap and I'll be there before you know it," his lip quirked up slightly as he thought of something that might cheer her up, "and I don't know if you found it yet, but last week I put a treat for you in the back of the freezer."

Feeling some of her sadness start to fade, Emily smiled softly as she wiped the last of the tears off of her face before slipping the key into the ignition.

"What is it?"

Hotch smiled, "dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets."

When he was shopping for his weekend with Jack, he'd remembered what she'd said their first night and he'd decided to get an extra bag for Emily.

She chuckled softly, "thanks hon," she sniffed, "I'll save you some."

Huffing slightly, Hotch shifted his bag as he started walking a little more quickly towards his gate.

"That's okay. I'll just have my granola bar on the plane."

With a faint scowl, Emily switched her phone to her ear as she pulled out of her parking spot.

"Aaron, you're not going to eat a granola bar for dinner. That's probably all you've eaten in the twenty four hours, coffee and granola bars. You're going to get sick. If you're landing by 7:30 then I'll just wait and have dinner with you."

Hearing his intake of breath, her lips twitched slightly.

"And you can holster that eyebrow mister, I promise not to go hungry. I'll have some fruit salad when I get home."

Hotch's eyebrow slowly lowered back down as a shadow of a smile crossed his face . . . she was definitely able to read him now.

"As long as you promise to eat, then okay. I'll call you when I land."

Her eyes crinkled, "okay, you have a safe flight."

Seeing the rapidly emptying boarding area up ahead, Hotch broke into a jog. That's all he needed to do, actually miss his flight. He quickly wrapped up their conversation.

"Thanks, I have to run now sweetheart. I'll see you in a bit," and he snapped his cell shut, sprinting the last ten yards.

Emily pulled the buzzing phone away from her ear and dropped it down onto the seat beside her. Her eyes shifted over to the dashboard clock.

5:19

Okay, barring traffic, she'd be home in twenty minutes, have a little bowl of fruit salad and a quick nap. She patted her growing bump . . . the morning sickness had finally gone but Baby did still sap a lot of her energy. But today she figured she just needed to lie down because of all the crying.

And after she got up . . . she'd make a special dinner for her man.

/*/*/*/*

Emily opened the front door with a little smile.

"Hi," she leaned up on her tiptoes to give Hotch a kiss before she wrapped her arms around his neck and sighed in relief, "I missed you."

Hotch pulled Emily up off the ground, his arms tight when he turned his face into her hair.

"I missed you too," he whispered back.

Then still holding her close, he took two steps inside the door before pushing it shut with his foot. Only then did he lower her back down. With a faint smile, he tucked her hair back behind her ear.

"I missed you as Jack would say, 'whole bunches.'"

Emily chuckled as he dropped his bag on the ground before hitting the deadbolt and turning back to her.

She wrapped her arms around his waist and looked up at him with a sad smile.

"I missed you whole bunches too."

Hotch's expression softened as he kissed her again.

"Well," he murmured against her lips, "I'm home now."

One of his hands came down to slide between them and his fingers ghosted over the bump under her tank top.

It was silly, but that contact was his way of letting Baby know that he was there.

The longer he and Emily were together the more he found himself touching her stomach as soon as they were alone together. It was the moment he remembered that he used to do that when Haley was pregnant with Jack that he'd realized he'd probably reached the point of no return.

He had bonded with her unborn child.

And really, why wouldn't he? About the only part of Baby's short time on the planet that he hadn't been there for was conception. As far as he was concerned that was a minor quibble, because he was starting to think of Baby as his child too.

But it was much too soon for that. _Light_ years too soon for that. So he certainly hadn't said anything to Emily about it. It would add a layer of pressure to their relationship that he didn't want there. Their arrangement . . . their rules, they were working for them. They hadn't had a case that had lasted longer than a day and a half so for the past three weeks they'd been able to see each other after work at least two or three days a week.

And he had been staying over each of those nights.

Things had been going really well, and he didn't want to do anything to mess that up. Cuddling and kissing had not yet led to anything else. And honestly, he didn't want it to . . . not right now.

They'd made this little bubble for themselves, and he was afraid that if they introduced any new element to the relationship that the bubble would burst and they'd have to start over. And God knows that sex, or making some stupidly premature declaration that he was starting to feel like Baby was his child too, well, those were two major things that could easily screw up what they had.

He wrapped Emily up tightly in his arms . . . and he was not about to do anything to screw this up.

Emily closed her eyes and slowly inhaled just enjoying the sensation of having Hotch's arms around her again. But that brief respite from her miserable afternoon only lasted a moment before she remembered why it was he had been away to begin with, and she looked up at him with concern.

"How's your mom?"

Hotch flinched at the question . . . back to that horror show.

"Not . . . good," he cleared his throat, looking away before he added softly, "she didn't recognize me."

That was the short version. In actuality, yesterday he'd walked into her room and she'd thought he was his father. And she'd started screaming at him for being a drunken louse and a womanizer.

Asking him how his whores were.

The nurse had to sedate her she was so upset. And as much as he'd wanted to just leave, he couldn't do that. He hardly ever saw her, and she was hurt, and not in her right mind. So even though she was unconscious for the rest of the day, he'd stayed and sat by her bed, just reading his files. Hoping that maybe when she woke up she would be his mom again.

No such luck.

Today she'd just cried and told him that he was dead, so what was he doing sitting in that chair.

It was an awful trip.

But he wasn't ready to tell Emily all of that. It would involve too much disclosure about his past. His life growing up in that awful house.

Hopefully someday they could have that conversation though. Hopefully someday they could have a lot of conversations that they were putting off for now.

Feeling a wave of sympathy, Emily reached up, cupping his jaw as she looked at him sadly.

"Oh honey, I'm so sorry."

She had so many problems with her own mother, but being with Hotch was starting to at least make her realize she should be grateful that both of her parents were alive and in good health. Perhaps there was still time to fix their relationship.

The time to fix things for Hotch had passed years ago.

Hotch's dad had died of cancer when he was a teenager and his mom, Emily had just learned this week, she had Alzheimer's and Hotch had to put her in a care facility three years ago.

As bad as things had often been with her parents over the years Emily couldn't imagine just not having them around anymore. Or having them be there but no longer themselves.

It would be a nightmare.

Emily walked Hotch over to the couch, climbing into his lap after he sat down. As his arms slipped around her, she pulled him to her breast and kissed the top of his head.

Even if he wouldn't actually say the words, she could tell he was sad about his mom.

Though he was very good about sharing his feelings with her, as far as they related to his actual _affection_ for her, when it came to opening up in other ways, he was still very much the Hotch that she'd known for the past couple years.

Bottle it up, shove it away and pretend it's not a problem.

Hell, she was the queen of that psychological philosophy so it's not like she could really criticize that strongly. Not that she'd criticize him at all for something like this. People shared when they were ready to share.

You couldn't push.

And he actually was getting better, like the thing with Morgan this week. That night Hotch had told her that he'd picked up his phone three times to call Morgan up to his office to apologize, but he just couldn't do it. He didn't want to talk about his mom's situation. And if he didn't tell him what the problem was, then how was Morgan supposed to understand why he was so upset?

Hotch telling her something like that was progress, huge progress really. But thinking about Morgan now started to force her own sadness to bubble up once more. She tried to push that back down though, they could talk later about her problems.

Right now she was trying to just be there for Hotch.

If this relationship was going to work, it needed to be mutually supportive. So for a few minutes they sat in silence. Her rubbing his back, his warm breath tickling the bare skin of her throat. And then she felt him press his lips to her neck, working upwards with soft warm kisses the same way that he had the first night in her apartment.

But this time he didn't stop when he reached her mouth.

Kissing had been on the agenda for a few weeks now. And they were getting pretty damn good at it if she did say so herself. Case in point, she moaned softly as Hotch's tongue swept into her mouth and started its now regular exploration.

The exploration that made her toes tingle.

Her fingers dug into his scalp, clutching tufts of his hair as she held him close. And when he started to pull away, she leaned forward to capture one more kiss before she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him again.

"Feel better?" She whispered in his ear.

Hotch nodded, nestling his head in the nape of her neck.

"I do," he murmured while kissing the curve of her breast, "thank you."

It was funny how quickly your life can change. Four weeks ago, this moment would have been a laughable dream. And now Emily was his only comfort. Being able to kiss her and hold her . . . it was a gift.

One that he wasn't taking for granted.

And really, if he hadn't come to see her tonight, then he just would have been miserable home by himself. Thinking about his mom as she used to be, and missing Emily from afar. But why miss someone when you could sleep with her curled up in your arms instead?

That was foolish.

And then suddenly he remembered how upset Emily had been on the phone . . . and the visible puffiness around her eyes when he came in . . . and he shifted her slightly in his lap so he could see her face.

"What happened with Morgan?"

Feeling the tears immediately begin to pool again, Emily blinked and shook her head.

"Let's eat first."

Basically she started crying every time she thought about Derek, and she'd already had to wash her face twice since she got home.

She wasn't looking for a threepeat before dinner.

Hotch stared at her for a moment and then nodded.

"Okay, if that's what you want."

He could see the glistening in her eyes, so he knew that he needed to let her go at her own pace.

Trying to shake off her creeping melancholy, she smiled at him as she blinked away the rest of the tears, "yeah, I made you dinner and I don't want it to get cold."

Appreciating how hard she was trying to stay upbeat for a few minutes, he pressed a quick kiss to her cheek as his eyes crinkled, "you made me dinner? That was nice. What did you make?"

Usually he was the one that cooked. Emily told him she was a better baker than general chef. And to prove her culinary skills she had made chocolate chip cookies last week for him to give to Jack. They were quite good, but this was the first meal he'd had of hers.

After pushing herself off his lap, Emily turned back to tug him up, "come over and see."

She was actually very proud of herself but she just hoped that he'd like it.

Wrapping his arm around Emily's waist, Hotch walked with her out to the kitchen. He let her go as she went over to get a pot holder and opened the oven door, leaning down and pulling out . . . he grinned.

"Dinosaur shaped chicken parmesan!"

She beamed at him over her shoulder, "do you like it?" she set the pan on the burner, "I thought it would be cute."

Emily knew she wasn't a master chef but she figured that vermicelli and a jar of Ragu that she'd doctored up with some garlic and basil would go quite nicely with the fun little chicken pieces. She'd just put a teaspoon of sauce on each of them and dropped a little piece of cheddar on top. Cheddar was a hard cheese and one of the few that she was still allowed to eat. Technically it was probably 'chicken cheddar' and not 'chicken parm'.

Either way, basically she just liked the idea of making a 'cheerful' meal to offset their respective crappy situations.

He pulled her into a hug, "I like very much," he kissed her nose, "good job on your first home cooked kid friendly meal."

She leaned back with a little grin, "that's right, I could make this for Baby someday," she tipped her head, "do you think it's something Jack would eat?"

Not that she was in any way pushing to get introduced to Hotch's son, but things had been going so well the past couple of weeks that she now knew that it was a virtual inevitability. And the more she heard Hotch talk about him, the more she tried to think of ways to make his little boy like her. Hence the cookies last week, which it had pleased her to no end to hear that he had devoured in one sitting.

Someday Jack might come over for dinner and she'd like to be able to make something that he would enjoy.

Hotch smiled, "yeah, he likes spaghetti and you already know how fond he is of dinosaur shaped food."

He knew she wasn't actually asking him to bring Jack over, she was just gathering info for the point when he did introduce the two of them. And this was as good an opening as any to at least bring up the timing, but he still wasn't quite ready to do even that much yet.

This was his first relationship since the divorce. And though he knew it was kind of fast, he was really hoping that this would turn out to be his ONLY relationship post divorce. He didn't want to play the field and try on a new wife every couple years.

He didn't want to be Dave.

What he wanted was to fall in love and have a family again. But he'd now seen how quickly, and unexpectedly, families can fall apart. So he wanted to make sure that he and Emily were really committed, that they were really in love, _both_ of them, before he brought his son into the equation.

He didn't want Jack to get hurt . . . not again. The divorce was hard enough, he wasn't going to bring a woman into his son's life and have her go away six months later.

Love wasn't a guarantee that they could makes things work . . . but it was a start.

But if he told Emily any of that, he was afraid that might also add pressure to their relationship that they didn't need. He could hear it now.

'_You can't meet my son until you promise me your eternal undying devotion.' _

Yeah . . . he rolled his eyes slightly . . . that's not going to make things awkward.

Fortunately though . . . he watched her taking the milk out of the fridge . . . they were on that path already. He might have been the one that convinced her to take a shot on them, but he was sure now, from the way that she looked at him, from the way that she kissed him, that her attachment for him was at least as strong as his was for her.

So he figured maybe another month and he'd be ready to have that conversation with her about Jack. Perhaps then he'd have the conversation about his feelings for Baby too. Because he knew eventually he was going to have to tell her about that as well.

Might as well discuss both of their children at the same time.

His main concern though as it related to all of these situations, was that at a certain point simply 'waiting for the right time to bring something up' would morph into an actual problem in its own right. Avoidance of issues indefinitely would end up screwing things up just as efficiently as if they'd started discussing them too soon.

With a roll of his eyes he carried their plates over to the table . . . either way, he definitely wasn't getting into any of that stuff tonight. They already had enough on their plates between his mom and her situation with Morgan.

The fight was hours ago, but Emily's eyes were still puffy when he came in, so that meant that she'd been crying again since she got home. So figuring out her Morgan problem, really their Morgan problem . . . after all he himself had been a complete ass to Derek this week . . . needed to be a priority.

But . . . he gave Emily a little smile as she brought their drinks to the table . . . that discussion could wait until he was done with his prehistoric dinner.

/*/*/*/*

Emily ended up waiting until they went to bed to tell Hotch what had happened with Morgan in the garage. She'd gotten so upset as she retold the story that she'd ended up crying herself to sleep.

That was over an hour ago.

And now Hotch lay in bed staring at the television, watching the cartoons that he'd become accustomed to, while running his fingers through Emily's hair. After hearing about their fight he had to agree with her . . . this really was a mess.

But it had been such a gradual one that he had completely missed it until now. Really, he'd just been wrapped up in Emily's situation for awhile. That, and his own growing feelings for her, had blinded him to this train wreck.

It was fortunate that he was already keeping Emily partnered with just him and Dave for the time being, because Hotch knew he wouldn't be able to have her paired off with Morgan for so much as a lunch run for the foreseeable future. Maybe that was wrong, maybe he should make them interact, but he wouldn't do that to her.

He couldn't.

Until she was ready to tell Derek everything, Hotch wasn't going to put her under additional strain by putting them together. Because though Hotch cared about Derek, Emily was his priority. As team leader that was probably not the most professional call . . . clearly friction between them wouldn't be good for morale. But morale was probably going to take a hit no matter what.

Because he didn't see any way for them to fix this without first making it worse.

In order to clear the air, Emily had to tell him what was going on . . . all of it . . . and then they'd have to deal with Morgan's reaction to that. If he was angry and hurt now, as Emily had clearly seen that he was, then that was just going to be intensified when he found out the whole story.

Hotch's wasn't an idiot, he'd seen how close the two of them used to be. And it was also obvious to him that he personally was part of the reason they were having problems now. Perhaps if Emily hadn't come to him that first day, if she had kept the news about the baby from him until she couldn't hide it, then it's possible that she might very well have eventually confided in Morgan.

And though Hotch hated that he was part of the reason for the rift between the two of them, he refused to regret anything that had happened between Emily and himself.

If she hadn't come to him first then there's no way he'd be holding her in his arms right now.

Instead he'd be home in his sterile month to month rental apartment still trying to figure out how to fill in the missing pieces in his life. His expression softened as he kissed her forehead. Now he had his missing pieces.

He was just trying to figure out a way to put the puzzle together.

Feeling Emily begin to stir, he looked down to see her lashes fluttering. A second later her gaze shifted up to his.

"I have to go to the bathroom." She murmured sleepily.

He kissed her temple right before he let go. And as he watched her stumble across the bedroom, dressed in his boxers, with tear tracks on her face and her hair all mussed up, he was filled with a wave of tenderness for her. It wasn't love yet.

But it was close.

When Emily came back out of the bathroom a minute later, her hair was pulled up into a bunch, and he could see that she'd washed her face.

He pushed himself up, holding out the sheet and blanket as he gave her a soft smile.

"You look pretty."

Emily stared at Hotch for a moment, feeling an ache in her chest before she gave him a watery smile.

"Thank you," she whispered back. Then she climbed into bed and molded her body against his.

As Hotch's arms came around her, she closed her eyes and sighed.

"I'm really glad you're home."

Hotch's fingers slowly stroked along the skin of her bare shoulder, tracing the lines of her tank top as he whispered back, "me too."

Counting their morning in Montana, which he did, they'd been together for twenty-one days. And he was already starting to feel like this . . . here lying in bed with her . . . was his home. That was even though the only things that he had consciously brought to her condo thus far were a toothbrush, a bottle of shampoo and a bottle of shower gel.

The latter two were because he couldn't deplete his ready bag supplies. And they'd both agreed that he couldn't very well sleep over her house, and then go to work smelling like Emily's flowery bath products.

But since then he'd accidentally left a few things at her house.

Clothes that were thrown into her hamper without thinking. And rather than giving them back after they came out of the wash . . . Emily had started to adopt them. Hence the boxers she was wearing now.

And the Harvard t-shirt she'd worn to bed last week.

Hotch might not have had a girlfriend in a couple decades, but his heart warmed at each new item he saw her wearing. Because he did know that if a woman was sleeping in your clothes, that was a good sign . . . that was a very good sign.

So far she'd only been over to his place once. She'd wanted to see it so he made her dinner there last week. But he didn't want her sleeping there. She was pregnant and he wanted her to be comfortable in her own bed, in her own home. And besides, he liked her place better. It felt more like a home and less like a place where you changed your clothes.

His apartment only felt like a home when Jack was there. But it hadn't felt so empty when Emily was there either.

Maybe home had nothing to do with the walls around you, but instead the people that filled it.

His hand splayed across the bare skin of her lower back. Her tank top had ridden up slightly when she shifted and his calloused fingertips gently caressed her smooth skin.

Every day she grew more beautiful to him. No other woman even caught his eye anymore.

Not that he'd ever been much for that anyway. Leering at women was never a hobby of his. He wasn't Dave, or . . . he thought sadly . . . Morgan.

Poor Derek.

This was a shit situation. And as he started thinking about it again, he just wished that he could think of an easy solution for Emily. Something that would help her fix what was broken with Morgan. Because the wet spot that she'd left on his t-shirt was evidence of how upset she was about what was happening between the two of them. Basically, with the exception of dinner, and the hour they spent watching CNN, he was pretty sure that she'd been crying almost constantly since she got home.

And he couldn't have that.

As stupid as it was, the chief in him wanted to just "order" Morgan to forgive her. As though that was an option. Beyond the simple inanity of that idea, he himself was also part of the problem.

Part of the reason Emily didn't feel comfortable telling Morgan everything.

Because she was right, Derek wasn't going to approve of their relationship. And besides that, Hotch was a private person and he didn't want to discuss his personal life with anyone, let alone subordinates . . . even if they were also friends. But he knew if things became really serious between him and Emily, as he expected that they would, eventually the team would have to know. It was unlikely that his feelings for her wouldn't at some point start to color his decisions in the field. He hoped not, but he had six lives under his command.

He couldn't risk them for his own hubris.

So his relationship with Emily would, down the road, become a matter of general team knowledge. But her problems with Derek were pushing that timetable up beyond Hotch's personal comfort level. And obviously beyond Emily's as well.

Christ know that he didn't want to try and build these early days in a fish bowl.

But it wasn't anyone's fault that events between the two of them had unfolded in the way that they had. It was just life. You couldn't help who you fell for. And when the fates suddenly showed him an alternate future . . . something besides the lonely bleak one he'd thought he was facing . . . what was he supposed to do? Ignore those feelings, and hope they'd go away?

Yeah, he tried that . . . it didn't work.

And bottom-line, at the end of the day, a few little work policies were not going to dictate the terms of his life's happiness. He had already given that place too much of himself. Too much of his life. So he'd be damned if he was going to let them take anything else from him.

If he and Emily stayed together . . . he kissed her forehead . . . as he hoped that they would, then the Bureau could take a flying leap if they thought they were going to shitcan either one of them. If they had to eventually work in separate units, fine, he could live with it as long as he could come home to her.

It did bother him a little though that he was willing to transfer for a theoretical relationship with Emily . . . yet for Haley, to save a twenty year marriage . . . he'd balked when she'd made that same request.

Though as he thought about that point, maybe he'd known deep down that it already was too late to save their marriage. It wasn't just the one thing that was wrong. It wasn't _just_ that he worked too much. They had grown apart . . . and they were unhappy.

Bitterly so.

Which meant that he would have transferred out of a unit that he loved, and that act probably only would have only pushed off the inevitable for another six months.

Maybe a year.

So the difference here was, a transfer would be the catalyst for moving a new relationship forward from the beginning, not a last ditch effort to save something that was already dead. And how many times did the brass ring swing by? He knew now that you needed to grab it when you can.

Feeling Emily's respirations evening out again, Hotch's own lids started to close. One last thought came to him before he drifted off.

_'Maybe next week I'll ask her if I can have a drawer.'_

* * *

_A/N 2: Gah, so much angsting, so little white space to fill it in! This is why I jumped ahead so far with the timing of this chapter. I wanted H/P to find comfort with one another given that I was going to be batting them both around. But I still tried to show that there are still things to work out and discuss, though they are at least getting to the 'us and them against the world' point. I also realized that Hotch's reference to Reid's may fly trivia was probably the only reference to Reid thus far in the story! Juggling everyone is hard! But, I will try to work in some face time for the other three soon. _

_Hotch's mom, that just kind of came to me as I was going. First I was just going to have her break her hip to get him out of town, but as I was writing I thought the other element worked. Mostly so far we've explored Em's background and not much with his. The story is about both of them and dementia in elderly parents is sadly common. And he's such a dark tragic figure that I could see that as being one more burden that he carries._

_I had actually written a whole extra scene here that would take place right after the end above, but I decided that it would work better if I moved the next bit ahead to the following chapter. It might be like a "week 12-week 13" chapter, depending on how many days I let slide before the next thing happens. On the plus side though, that means I already have a portion of the next one done! And with this story, that hasn't happened since before I started the new job, so yay to planning ahead._

_Big super special thanks to my beta Arcadya for her assistance on this one. Arc has a little trick as she's reading, she writes in red and adds little comments from the peanut gallery as she goes through. Sometimes for my amusement, tells me what she likes, and if she thinks maybe fleshing out a scene would be good, she'll pose a question to the character. It helps me anticipate what you guys might ask as well, and she did that a few places here and that was invaluable in helping me with the insights on the messy little conflict we have going. I realized I'd never written conflict before. Not really, a little fight that quickly gets wrapped perhaps, and I have a major arc coming in Girl where there is huge inter-team strife, but that was due to an accident, not complicated emotional stuff. This situation is a new challenge and the trick is trying to see the world from all of their points of view so that you can feel empathy for each of them. _

_And again Arc was helpful for me because she said she liked that Emily was portrayed here as flawed and screwing things up. And I did that purposelessly because as you're reading it you're yelling at her because she's handling things badly. It's like watching a train wreck. _

_But, I was in this situation, hell I'm still in this situation, where I did a very similar thing (not the crappy boyfriend, knocked up, sleeping with my boss thing) but where I ended up cutting someone out of my life that I used to be really close to. I replaced him with somebody else just like Emily did with the guys. And I did it gradually, and unintentionally, and without his permission. I hurt him really badly and didn't realize it until later because I was just oblivious. I sort of knew I was being kind of "insensitive" but really didn't understand the extent of it. And we'd been together for like 10 yrs. I handled, am still handling, the whole thing badly. I know this, and yet I still do it. Because sometimes, as many of you who may have been on the planet for a few years, might be able to relate, it's just easier just NOT deal with your life. Cautionary tale for the kiddies, address personal problems while they're small and fixable. Do as I say, not as I do :)_

_My situation is probably beyond repair, but Emily's I do plan to eventually sort out. That is the hope at least. But I honestly don't know how things will turn out in the end. This story is very different than anything I've written and maybe there won't be "happy" endings for everything. Because in life, sometimes you do hurt people and screw things up and they can't be what they were before. I don't WANT to do that here, but if that's the way the story goes then just a warning, all of their problems might not get a pretty bow._

_And if anyone's wondering why Emily with her profilery skills didn't pick up on the extent of pain she was causing Derek, I'll say unless you're a complete narcissist you are at least peripherally aware of other people's feelings, but unless that person is really spending a lot of one on one time with you, then you aren't looking much beneath the surface of what that person is projecting to the world. She knew he was bothered, but she didn't know how much, because she didn't (still doesn't) realize how much he cares about her._

_Finishing on a lighter note, Dave just totally strikes me as the kind of guy that tells dirty jokes and inappropriate stories :) In my mind, Dave's just a guy's guy and I guess that's why I like him so much. If you also like Dave, and are looking for another Rossi fix, I have a new story going up later today (one shot) called Goldilocks and Papa Bear. It's an offshoot of Falling in Love with a Girl, but it's JJ/Rossi friendship (with H/P as supporting players) and I very particularly wrote it with the intention of non Girl readers being able to enjoy it as well. Hopefully anyway ;)_

_Next up, we will continue to explore the rift with Morgan and Emily. A "knock on the door" is going to going to majorly affect the team dynamic as well. Thanks as always for all the lovely feedback. I made a concerted effort yesterday to get back to all of the outstanding messages/reviews I had. I'm not quite done yet but I'm almost caught up so if I haven't written back yet I will soon :)_


	11. Pros & Cons of Upsetting the Apple Cart

**Author's Note**: I want you to know, this would have been up Friday, BUT, the site has been really fluky about posting. And apparently the tech gods just hate me this weekend because the modem died last night. This chapter is brought to you by much blood sweat and tears and a couple of alpacas who had to drag it the last few miles up the hill. Hopefully I can get something else transferred to ff but if not, take heart in that there will be a ton of updates later in the week. Of course that's AFTER the little tech man comes to visit Tuesday night and makes right all that is wrong in the world. Ah, if only he could :)

The regularly scheduled A/N, so as not to torture you all with back to back to back angstiness, I decided to break up events of the next chapter and put up the lighter shippy bit by itself. But just a reminder, don't get accustomed to fluffiness :) I promise to give you cavities in the next 2 chapters of Girl but in this story the capital D Drama will continue throughout. Not necessarily with Derek though. Remember she's barely entered her second trimester, it would be a little tedious to keep him 'front page news' for the next five months. So that will come to a head in the next chapter, but there are other things coming. In fact I actually changed the description to Romance/Angst from Romance/Drama just so people would know what they were getting into. Not that it will all be "God sienna put us out of our misery!" but I decided that drama just meant that it was a 'serious' story, angst at least implied that it was a 'heavy' story. Of course if you've gotten this far then presumably you've picked up on the heaviness already :)

So this is Week 15. There will be another Week 15 chapter that will be a might bit angstier. Yes, again I skipped ahead two weeks but that's because I wanted some additional progress on the H/P bonding front. But I didn't want the Morgan thing to just be dangling out there unresolved for no reason so I inserted a big case covering most of Week 14. That's why Emily didn't have a chance to speak to him any earlier about their personal issues.

We ended Thursday of Week 13 and we're picking up Tuesday of Week 15.

* * *

_Week 15_

_**Tuesday Evening**_

**The Pros & Cons of Upsetting the Apple Cart**

With her hands on her hips, Emily stood in the middle of her bedroom looking around at her possessions. She didn't care for knickknacks in general, but she had picked up a few nice items from her travels around the world.

Some artwork, vases, jewelry boxes . . . a beer stein or two.

Most of those things she kept put away though. She wasn't a neat freak but she did like things orderly, and she wasn't much for clutter so she rotated what she put out. Her lip quirked up . . . kind of like the Smithsonian.

But as she surveyed the contents of her room, she realized her tidiness leanings were fortunate because she had made a big decision tonight and she was happy that it wasn't going to take her long to do what she needed to do.

That morning when they were out getting their coffee, Hotch had asked her if maybe he could have a drawer at her place, just so he could keep a few extra things there. The words had barely left his mouth before she was smiling and nodding telling him "of course."

She was so pleased at his request . . . at the idea of having him with her even more than she did now . . . that she had spontaneously given his fingers a quick squeeze even though they were in the elevator already back at the office.

He'd shot her a look . . . cameras and all . . . but as he'd turned away she'd seen his mouth twitch so she knew he wasn't really mad.

Though they had the occasional disagreements, with their work being so stressful their nerves did get wound pretty tightly. So if one of them was having a bad day he or she might get a little short with the other one. But they quickly kissed and made up.

In fact, neither had spoken a genuinely cross word at the other since they'd gotten together. And that was because they didn't let anything fester, they made sure even the smallest of issues were addressed quickly.

It was the healthiest relationship that Emily had ever had, and she was pretty sure that Hotch would say the same thing.

The only thing they both really needed to work on was sharing things about their lives before. But they were getting a little better, and Emily was pretty sure the rest would come in time. It was scary to put yourself out there with someone if you weren't sure that person would be around in six months.

What if she entrusted him with all of her secrets . . . all of her pain . . . and then he walked away?

But the more days that passed, the more time they were together, the more that fear had started to fade. Which was why she'd made the decision she had tonight.

Hotch had to work late, but she'd called his office when she got home, reminding him to stop by his place and pick up a few things to fill his brand spanking new dresser drawer. He'd laughed and said he'd be over by 7:30.

It had already been understood that he was coming over tonight when he was done at the office. And that was because, with the exception of his nights with Jack, Hotch basically stayed at her place all the time now.

It had come to the point that they really didn't like to be apart any more than they had to be. So though in the beginning, him working late meant that she went home alone, last week she'd told him that he didn't have to ask anymore if it was okay for him to sleep over.

He was always welcome.

Their efforts at creative uses of their free time had worked for awhile, had gotten them as far as they were now. But she had become so accustomed to having him in her bed that she didn't like to sleep alone anymore.

And that was why his request for a drawer had so tickled her. It was logical, it was a next step, and it showed commitment.

They were moving forward.

But after she'd hung up with him, she started to think maybe it wasn't a big enough step.

She was already stealing half of his wardrobe, if she didn't let him start keeping more here than his ready bag and a pair of jeans and an extra pair of boxers, his closet was going to start looking pretty bare.

That was just the logically deductive reasoning she'd used for her decision. In reality she'd come home tonight and decided it was time that she reorganized not only her possessions, but also her life.

It was time to make room for someone else, both literally and figuratively.

So Hotch didn't know it yet, but he was actually getting two drawers, a shelf in the medicine cabinet and one third of the closet.

It wasn't an equitable split of her space, but it was a lot. Giving him half would have basically said they were moving in together, and THAT would have been too big a step.

This . . . she started pulling clothes out of the closet . . . this showed him how important he was to her.

That he held the highest degree of prominence in her life. But it wasn't a permanent declaration . . . yet.

After she finished pulling her eveningwear from the walk in . . . she wouldn't be fitting into anything slinky for another year of so . . . she moved over to the tall dresser. She opened one of the middle drawers and paused, she had forgotten what was in here.

It was where she kept her photo albums and old pictures that she'd rotated from their frames downstairs. And sitting on top of the stack of albums was a picture from last spring . . . JJ's birthday party.

Everyone was in it . . . including Gideon.

That's why it was in the drawer. She'd been pretty pissed at him, the way he'd left them all without so much as a word of goodbye. The letter to Spencer wasn't enough. He'd hurt that boy so much, and after Spencer had already gone through such hell that year, she wasn't ready to forgive Jason for that betrayal.

She wasn't sure that she ever would.

So after he'd left she'd taken this picture from the living room and put it away. And then about six months ago she'd replaced this team photo that she'd once kept on her bookcase with a newer picture from the most recent Christmas party.

The whole team was in that one too, but the difference was Rossi was there. In his inimitable Rossi style, holding his personal, brought from home, sprig of mistletoe over JJ's head as he planted one on her.

Everyone had laughed . . . JJ the hardest.

It was a happy picture and had immediately been placed on the shelf where this one had once stood. But this one . . . her eyes started to burn as she picked it up . . . this one showed something else besides Gideon.

Morgan's arm around her shoulder. Her on his left side, Garcia on the right. They were all laughing here too.

She juxtaposed those two photos in her mind against the scene at work this past week.

After their fight she'd known that she had to deal with the situation soon, tell him something to help him understand why she had done what she did, but she'd wanted to give it the weekend to think about what to say. But then that Sunday night they'd gotten called in on a terrible case, scores of people dead in a series of arson fires out in Ohio.

They hadn't gotten home until midnight Thursday.

Hotch had very smoothly kept her and Derek separated the whole trip. To her mind, Morgan honestly seemed just as relieved about that as she was. His interactions with her were, though cooler than usual, overall just very . . . professional.

Prentiss this and Prentiss that.

But of course Hotch was also "Prentiss'ing" her all over the place, and his nomenclature of choice off duty was "sweetheart," so you couldn't go much by the Prentiss thing. With the exception of Hotch and JJ, already nicknames, mostly the team referred to one another by their last names when they were on duty.

They needed to separate themselves from their lives outside of work. In the middle of a case they were federal agents first and foremost. And a good agent couldn't let his personal feelings and affection for his coworkers color his judgment in the field.

The last name thing was used to create that small bit of distance.

Of course the distance between her and Morgan was more severe than that, but the guise of their relations being affected solely by the job was a lie that they both went along with for those few days.

And the case was so bad that she honestly hadn't had much time to think about her personal problems. With over fifty people dead, a fight with Morgan, as bad as it had been, still seemed rather small in the face of so much tragedy.

Though one thing those deaths had of course done was remind her yet again that time was always short, and she needed to make amends soon.

The other benefit, if you could call it that, of the horrific nature of the case, was that because they'd been running nonstop out there, that with the exception of Hotch, and Dave who was there at lunch that day, it hadn't been apparent to anyone else that there was a problem with her and Derek.

But now they were back . . . and the problem was quite apparent. They were in close quarters again, nothing to fill their days but routine. A routine usually, or at least in the past, that had been filled by jokes and lighthearted discussion.

That was gone.

The morning briefings had become tense and awkward. Garcia kept shooting her funny looks and JJ and Reid just cleared their throats a lot. It was obvious to the whole team that something was up with Derek and Emily, but nobody was talking about it.

Emily wanted to fix it . . . but she really didn't want to tell Morgan everything that was going on. The baby was one thing, that was coming out soon anyway, and she definitely wanted Derek to know before the others. So perhaps if she actually did tell him about her problems with Chris, that she could smooth that over and he might understand. Maybe not right away, but after he'd had a chance to adjust to the idea and forgive her handling of the situation.

But the news about Hotch was quite a different matter.

That was very personal, and had become quite dear to her. It was a relationship that she cherished and wanted to protect. She didn't want to be put in a position to have to defend it, to justify why they were together.

She shouldn't have to do that.

But she knew . . . just from Morgan's past reactions to the men in her life . . . that she would.

For just a moment she felt a small flare of irritation at Derek. Though she knew that she was the one in the wrong, that she was the one that screwed up their friendship, a small part of her was resentful that she had become the bad guy here. Yes, she certainly could have handled things better, she never would have hurt Derek intentionally, but at the end of the day . . . it was her life.

And he didn't always seem to understand that.

She shouldn't have to justify her choices to anyone. And though she loved Morgan and she'd always appreciated his concern for her, his . . . opinions, had occasionally caused them some friction in the past.

When she'd first found out she was pregnant she'd had so many things going on, so many worries about the baby's health, the fall out at work, and just the base shame and humiliation over what had happened . . . that Morgan hadn't really been at the top of her list of worries.

Derek wasn't her husband and he wasn't even technically family.

He was just her friend.

A close friend, a man who had been very good to her, but still . . . he was _just_ a friend.

And, though she wasn't proud of it, that was where that small bit of resentment came in. Because she'd given this situation a lot of thought this past week and a half, trying to figure out what had gone wrong, hoping to prevent a repeat of something like this in the future, and she realized that she would have gone to Morgan right away if she'd thought that he would have just filled that role. If she'd thought that he would just be her friend.

Someone who was supportive and sympathetic without judgment.

But because of his reaction to her boyfriends in the past, and his obvious dislike of Chris all along, she just hadn't wanted to deal with the commentary that would have surely come the moment she'd told him what happened.

It wouldn't have been an 'I told you so,' he would never be so cruel, but Derek would have been angry and started in on how he'd never trusted Chris. And his anger would have made her feel worse. Because as much as she hated Chris' guts for what he had done, it would have made her feel small, put her on the defensive. Morgan would have made her feel like she needed to justify her decision to go out with him to begin with, just as she had with the guy she'd broken up with the time before that. She and Morgan had a fight about him and she had no reason to believe this situation would have been any different.

In fact, she knew it would have been worse.

And she was such a mess when she found out she was pregnant. That was just one more conflict she didn't want to have.

So she'd gone to Hotch instead.

Hotch hadn't judged her. He hadn't made her feel foolish for having trusted someone who betrayed her. He'd been supportive and given her a hug and wished her luck. Perhaps Morgan would have done that too . . . as she thought about it she realized he would have . . . eventually.

But not before the other stuff . . . the stuff that she hadn't wanted to deal with.

And really, looking back, Hotch had been the most logical choice. Not only had she needed to tell him for work, and so he would find out from her directly, but he had been knowledgeable about her pregnancy, about what she was going through, in a way that Morgan wouldn't have been.

Hotch had been a comfort in so many ways. He'd shown her new ways of looking at the world. Of looking at her life.

And now, all these months later . . . she moved the albums to the bed . . . she was pretty sure that she was falling in love with him. Maybe she already was in love. Sometimes it felt like it.

But it was hard to say for sure yet. And either way it was much too soon to say it out loud. Because of course she thought she'd been in love before, but she'd never felt the way she did now about those men.

Those men who had turned out to be bad choices.

So as badly as she felt about the situation with Derek, she knew that she wouldn't be unpacking these drawers and making room in her life for this man who made her so happy, if she hadn't gone to Hotch that first day instead of Morgan.

THAT decision was not something she would regret.

Maybe she should have told Morgan sooner, or at least found a better way of dealing with him than avoidance and white lies. But the rest of it had happened so gradually that it had all gotten completely out of hand before she'd even realized how badly she'd screwed up.

But . . . she sighed . . . screwed up she had. And her guilt and sadness over the pain she had caused her friend had been weighing on her.

If she didn't figure out a solution to the situation soon she didn't know what she would do.

After transferring the contents of the second drawer to the bed . . . winter turtlenecks she forgot to put away . . . Emily went into the bathroom and started shifting the items on the shelves.

As she put her hairspray on the counter she suddenly stopped and stared at Hotch's toothbrush, remembering something he had said about his conversation with Rossi.

And that's when she realized that she might have just thought of a solution to her problem with Derek.

It was agreed . . . in that she and Hotch had come to the same conclusion separately . . . that the only way to fix things with Morgan was to tell him everything that was going on. They had also come to the separate conclusion though, that not only was he going to be hurt for all the lies that she had told, but also that he'd be pissed off at the idea of the two of them dating. And for the reasons she'd already articulated to herself, she really didn't want to have to justify her relationship with Hotch to him.

But then she remembered what Hotch told her about Rossi. Dave had asked if there was something Hotch wasn't telling him and Hotch said yes, but they weren't ready to talk about it yet.

Hotch had told Dave the complete truth . . . but he hadn't told him everything.

Maybe she could do that with Morgan. Tell him that she was pregnant, apologize for how she had been treating him, explain . . . nicely . . . why it was that she hadn't told him right away, and then ask for his forgiveness. If that went well, in that he did forgive her, THEN she would tell him that there was also something else going on in her life, but she wasn't ready to talk about it yet. And that she hoped that he would understand and give her a little more time.

It all seemed quite logical and reasonable in her head. Of course this was all provided Morgan still wanted to try and salvage their friendship. But she hoped that he did, if for no other reason in that they did have to work together.

Though she of course hoped he wanted to work things out for personal reasons as well. As much as she cared about Hotch, she did miss Morgan terribly. Joking with him, yelling at him for teasing Spencer, going to the range . . . just hanging out. Granted with Baby coming and her burgeoning relationship with Hotch, she would have less personal time for Derek, but right now she had none.

She'd do almost anything to get him back.

Okay . . . she'd run her idea past Hotch when he came over. And if he didn't see any major flaws in her approach then she'd see if Morgan would agree to talk to her some day after work this week.

So now with a slightly lighter heart, she finished clearing space for Hotch's things in both her bedroom and her bathroom. When she was done transferring all of the items on the bed to storage in the hall closet, she checked her watch, realizing that Hotch wouldn't be over for another hour, she decided to go out and buy him some toiletries for the medicine cabinet.

Just a few things to make him feel like he was welcome in her home. Aftershave, shaving cream, deodorant, razors. His shaving kit had been sitting on her vanity for most of the past month so she certainly knew all of his brands now.

She went back into the bedroom and grabbed a pen and paper off the nightstand before she began making a list of things he would need.

Once she was done she looked it over, staring at it for a moment before she bit her lip. And with a twinkle in her eye she added one more item to the bottom of the page.

/*/*/*/

Hotch was sitting up in bed typing up a report while Emily was in the bathroom doing her nightly makeup removal and moisturizing routine. He told her she was beautiful no matter what, and she'd responded that was very sweet but he might be singing a different tune if not for the Oil of Olay she now bought by the gross.

Sometimes he liked to sit on the vanity and talk to her while she washed up. It was a domestic chore and it made him happy to sit with her while she did it. But tonight he'd opted to stay in the bedroom.

He tried not to work too much when they were alone together, but he was still catching up on paperwork from being out of the office last week. So he'd decided to try to finish up this report while she was otherwise occupied.

Not counting their time on the road, and his visitation with Jack, he'd spent every night at Emily's since he'd gotten home from Charleston.

That awful case last week had thrown off his timetable for taking the next step in their relationship, but this morning he'd finally asked her if he could have a drawer at her place.

She'd readily agreed. But earlier that evening when he'd shown up with his small duffel, rather than just being presented his drawer, Emily had given him two drawers, a shelf in the medicine cabinet, one quarter of the closet and . . . a key.

The key was huge.

All of it was huge. It was a sign that she didn't see them breaking up anytime soon. You don't start rearranging your home for someone unless you plan on that person being around for the foreseeable future.

Staying together for the foreseeable future was his plan as well.

Just as he was saving his document, Emily came out of the bathroom. He looked up as he saw her rubbing her stomach.

The little bump, though not yet prominent enough to be noticeable in her work clothes, wasn't quite so little anymore. Especially in what she was wearing at the moment, a pair of his plaid boxer shorts riding low on her hips, and a short white, fitted tank top.

She looked sexy as hell.

But that thought left him as he saw her stop by the side of the bed and stare at him for a moment. She was still rubbing her stomach . . . she looked a little nervous.

Furrowing his brow in concern, he took off his glasses, "what's the matter?"

Her hand stilled on her stomach, "I just had a funny pain."

His eyes widened slightly, "funny how?"

She looked down at her stomach, "it was on the side, kind of sharp." Emily looked back up at him with a touch of worry, "is that normal for the ligament pain?"

Last week, right on schedule, she'd started getting the occasional aches in her abdomen if she suddenly changed position. She knew from the book that was normal. But just now she'd been digging under the sink for a minute, and when she stood up this pain was sharper than those had been. Even though it hadn't lasted, sharp pain of any kind was worrisome.

Hotch gave her a quick smile before he looked down to open a browser window.

"Don't worry sweetheart," he started typing, "I'm sure it's normal. I'll just look it up."

He hated that damn book of hers so he'd bookmarked a couple of pregnancy sites for her. Ones run by reputable medical organizations so if she . . . or he . . . had any questions she/he could get proper answers.

It had been a couple of years since Jack and he certainly didn't remember step by step everything Haley had experienced. But what he had refreshed himself on as soon as they'd gotten together were warning signs that she had to go to the hospital immediately. Fortunately what she'd described didn't seem to fall into that category, but he wanted to make sure.

It took him just a few seconds before he started reading aloud.

"Round ligament pain is generally an extended dull ache _or_ a brief sharp stabbing pain,'" he turned to her with a little smile, "as suspected, it's just Baby adding on an addition."

As he saw her look of relief he closed his laptop and put it on the floor. Then he leaned over, putting his hand on her stomach and lowering his head slightly as he gently chastised the little troublemaker.

"Quit scaring the crap out of your mother."

Emily's expression softened as she stared at him before reaching over to brush her fingers through his hair. Her heart began to fill as she suddenly pictured a world where this was Hotch's baby and not Chris'.

In that moment she wished so badly that was true.

Hotch saw the look on Emily's face and his hand slid over to her side, "what is it?"

She blinked away the moisture in her eyes as she smiled at him, "I think it's time we had sex."

He blinked in surprise as his other hand came to rest on her hip, "I thought you wanted to wait."

Emily moved closer to the bed, until her knees were hitting the mattress.

"We have waited . . . and I think we've waited long enough," she ran her index finger down his cheek, "it's been over a month," a slight flush came to her cheeks, "and I'm a little embarrassed to say that with the exception of that first year of dating after. . ."

She was about to say "the rape," but that would definitely be a mood killer, so she glided over it, "well, this is the longest I've ever waited."

Not that she was a slut by any means. She certainly didn't have sex with every man she dated. It was just that, if they were going to have sex ever, she had pretty much made that determination by date three.

And she'd never waited longer than that.

Of course that might explain why none of her relationships had worked out. She'd probably sent more time shopping for her last car than her last man. She still had the car . . . and the man, well, what he'd left behind was now building a front room on her abdomen.

Hotch stared at Emily for a moment before leaning up to press his lips softly against hers. As she started to deepen the kiss, he pulled back, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"I think we should wait a little longer sweetheart." He said apologetically.

Though he knew in his heart it was the right choice, he still felt like the stupidest man on the planet. A sexy, beautiful woman that he felt blessed simply that she allowed him in her life, now wanted to have sex with him. And he was turning her down.

Idiot.

Now Emily was the one to look at him in surprise, "why?"

She'd never had a man turn down sex before. It was . . . confusing.

He smiled at her look of befuddlement . . . God she was adorable. And God knows he _really_ did want to have sex with her right now . . . but he still thought it was too soon.

Momentarily ignoring the questioning look on Emily's face, he turned to move back and lean against the headboard. And then he reached over to gently tug her onto the bed with him.

Biting her lip, Emily climbed up on the mattress and looked down at Hotch . . . he was serious . . . he really thought they should wait. She reached out and ran the pad of her thumb over his mouth . . . but she didn't want to wait any longer. She wanted that connection with him now.

Her bottom lip came out . . . she wanted him to be hers.

Maybe he was just being chivalrous and she could change his mind.

After inching forward on her knees, she hovered over him for a moment before dropping down on his lap. Then she rubbed against him as she pressed a kiss to his jaw.

There . . . she put her head on his shoulder and his arms came up and around her . . . that should give him something to think about.

Hotch's eyes crinkled as he turned to whisper in her ear.

"You don't need to seduce me sweetheart. Trust me . . ." his thumb ran along her hipbone before dipping inside her boxers, "it's not that I'm not in the mood. I want to make love to you," as proof, his hand started to go off and make an unauthorized exploration. But he mustered up his self control, curling his fingers back from their southern migration as he sighed, "I just think we should wait."

She sat up and looked at him with curiosity, "but why?"

They had waited, they weren't going too fast, and she definitely was past the point of confusing sex for love. Her emotional needs for him were already defined separately from her physical.

The physical should simply enhance that connection, not artificially create it.

Even though the angle of Emily in his lap was soon going to present a problem, Hotch pulled her in closer, pressing their bodies together as he stared into her eyes.

"Things are going so well sweetheart," he gently explained, "I'm just worried that if we go to the next step, that we'll . . ." he paused to search for a word and instead settled on a phrase, "upset the apple cart . . ." his eye crinkled, "so to speak." Then he wrapped his arms around her waist.

"So I propose waiting two more weeks . . ." he smiled, "just to be sure we don't mess this up."

Emily's eyes began to pool as she felt a wave of love fill her . . . she'd definitely picked a winner this time. And she couldn't imagine denying him anything at that moment. And so her expression was soft as she smiled back at him.

"Okay . . . two more weeks." And then the smile fell away as she stared into the depths of his eyes.

"Do you know that you might be the best thing that's ever happened to me Aaron Hotchner?"

In actuality it was probably Hotch and Baby together that had started to turn her life around. She had someone with her now that treated her as an equal. Someone that took care of her, but still respected her ability to take care of herself.

Unresolved issues with Morgan notwithstanding, she was . . . for the first time maybe since her sister died . . . truly happy. Not just living her life, but enjoying it, embracing it.

She had Hotch and Baby to thank for that. And she probably never would have had one without the other. But unlike most women, she had to thank the little one for the big one, and not the other way around.

Either way though . . . her eyes burned . . . she was starting to think that this might be the real deal.

Hotch reached up, and with his thumb caught the one stray tear that was starting to spill from the corner of her eye, "I think you have it backwards sweetheart," he leaned his forehead against hers, "I'm the one that should thank you."

He paused . . . no matter how he felt, it was too soon to use the L word. But it was there, hovering behind their words, coloring their actions.

It was why he wanted to wait . . . and why she didn't.

But he could see the look in her eyes, the tears now running over that he couldn't catch, and he knew that she understood all of that . . . just the same as him.

Hotch kissed away her tears and then Emily smiled as she wiped her hand across her face and shifted her body around so that she was sitting on his thigh. No sex tonight meant she was just being a tease pressing against him the other way.

Besides . . . she buried her face in his neck as his arms enveloped her . . . this was almost as good.

Hotch tipped his head against hers.

"I don't know if I told you," he whispered in her ear, "but I really like my key."

"Well," she smiled and murmured against his throat, "I really like you having my key."

He held her close for a moment, breathing in the soapy jasmine scent from her earlier bath. His eyes crinkled as he realized that was something he had bought her.

His hand slipped between them, covering Baby protectively as he whispered in her ear.

"I was wondering if maybe in a couple weeks you might like to meet Jack?"

Her gift of the key and the space in her home showed a real commitment. More than he thought he'd have so soon . . . so it was time that he repaid that effort she'd made. He didn't want her out there by herself. So even though he wanted things to gel a little more before Emily became a part of his son's life, he needed to at least talk about taking the next step.

To show her that he was serious too.

Emily's eyes filled with tears again as she snuggled in closer and whispered.

"I'd love to meet Jack."

* * *

_A/N 2: The arson fire case I mention here, I very loosely based that on the "House on Fire" episode. I thought that a tragedy of THAT scope would be the only thing that would be enough to completely sidetrack their personal issues for a week. Beyond that though, it was just the case itself I was referencing, not the episode, because of course scene by scene, Derek and Emily actually were paired together occasionally._

_I looked up some baby belly pictures, and though some women did look noticeably pregnant, it seemed that with women that were very trim overall, their bellies at Week 15 still weren't that prominent. Certainly they appeared to be small enough that they could still be covered pretty easily with a loose shirt. Also, I do know that first time mothers usually take a little longer to show than the 'repeaters' :) But it does seem that week 16/17 is about the point where the pregnancy is starting to look like a pregnancy and less like just an extra five pounds that you could take off with some sit ups. So, next chapter (still week 15) we'll address the Morgan situation before Em starts to obviously show to everyone, and then the following week we'll get back to actual pregnancy stuff for a bit. _

_In terms of "happy" endings I have decided that all I can promise is that at the end of this, Hotch and Emily will be together and Baby will be born healthy. Otherwise, I honestly don't know what I'm going to do. I've said this story is a writing exercise so I want to keep trying new things. Emotional conflict, darker themes. So beyond the Derek thing, I have a few other arcs in mind, Haley and her parents need to find out about Baby, not to mention the issues with the jackass ex and his wife, and I keep getting different ideas on how they all play out. All I can say is that it's going to continue to be a bumpy road. But I promise I'll warn you when you need to buckle up :) Like the next one, Derek finds out what's going on, seatbelts will be required._

_Excellent news though, I have discovered I can write free hand on the subway! Short of notes in a meeting, I haven't written anything freehand that was longer than a grocery list since the advent of the computer. But I had so many damn stories swirling in my head I decided to give it a shot. Aside from some slight motion sickness, which I'm powering through, I have scribbled out the next chapters in Mirror, Horses and TWO for Girl! So not counting this chapter, I have FOUR chapters to go up folks! Granted they all need to be polished but, they exist! I'm astounded. I also feel a bit like Kevin Spacey's character in Seven. You know just scribbling maniacally on the subway, filling the pages of my little notebook, "it's just his mind poured out on paper." I'm hoping that's just me projecting my own neuroses and nobody else is watching me thinking I'm a nut job. _

_Next: __**Haven't decided on a title yet but I promise it's done :) (and that would be one hell of a title)**_


	12. Misunderstandings, Miscommunications

**Author's Note**: Seeing as this was done, I figured I'd throw it up while I had short window of web access.

I wanted to be fair to everyone here so I kept switching viewpoints so you'd know where each of them were coming from. Why they were reacting the way they were. Still though, fair warning, this one's pretty messy in the 'foreshadowing, train wreck can't turn your head' kind of way. Please just keep reading though, it's a long walk but we're going somewhere.

* * *

_Week 15_

_**Wednesday Afternoon**_

**Miscommunications, Misunderstandings & Missed Opportunities**

Emily's gaze kept shifting across her desk to Derek. To her it seemed obvious that he was being rather particular in his efforts to not look back at her.

And that was hurting her so much.

Remembering how she'd felt when he caught up with her in the parking garage, she had decided it was best not to force him to talk about their issues at work either. So instead she had waited until he went to the men's room and then dropped a note on his chair apologizing and asking if she could come over to his house later and talk.

With the evidence of Hotch stamped all over her home, she definitely didn't want to ask Morgan to come over to her place. And though a coffee shop would be neutral ground, their discussion was going to be of a very personal nature, and she didn't wish to make a scene in front of strangers.

But now she wasn't even sure if she'd get the opportunity to make a scene anywhere.

She had seen him open the envelope, and out of the corner of her eye she'd noticed his jaw twitch when he'd read her message.

That was one hour and forty-three minutes ago. And still . . . nothing.

At first she'd thought he was just thinking, and that was understandable. She shouldn't expect him to jump just because she was ready to talk. But after an hour, the fact that he was still ignoring her had started to weigh on her. And then a heaviness had begun to fill her heart. It seemed that he really didn't want to fix things.

Maybe her friendship with Derek was actually . . . over.

Now biting her lip, and trying to push down her grief, she turned her attention back to the case file she was reviewing.

It was almost five. She could leave soon.

/*/*/*/*

Morgan's eyes went back to the note from Emily.

_Derek,_

_Things can't go on like this. I know this is my own doing, but having this distance between us is so painful for me. _

_You mean too much to me to go on hurting you this way so I wanted to apologize for how I've behaved. I shouldn't have lied to you and I shouldn't have avoided you. I was just trying to work through some things, feelings I've had about fairly recent developments. That might not seem like a good excuse, but I think I've finally found the right words to explain myself and hopefully then you'll understand my behavior. Please know though that I never meant to hurt you, I was just confused about how to tell you what was happening._

_Are you free tonight? Could I come over? There are some things that we definitely need to talk about._

_I miss you._

_-Emily_

For one hour and fifty-two minutes he'd been running those words through his mind, trying to read between the lines and figure out what they meant. Because he really wanted them to mean what they would have meant if their positions were reversed and he wrote the note.

That she had feelings for him the same as he did for her.

He snuck another glance over at her . . . that couldn't be true though, could it?

Was that why she'd been acting so strangely around him? Is that why she didn't want to spend time with him anymore? Was that her confusion? How she felt about him?

Because he did remember that those first few weeks after he'd realized how he'd felt about her that he'd had a hard time dealing with her normally. In fact, as he thought back on it he realized that he may have subconsciously avoided her a bit at the time. But she was dating one of the jagoffs back then, so she probably wouldn't have picked up on it.

But the more he stared now at her words, the more he started to feel a little kernel of hope growing. He knew that he was biased, but what else could it be? She didn't say that he'd done something and she was upset with him. She said that there had been some "developments," and that she was "confused" dealing with her "feelings" about those developments.

Whatever the developments were they seemed to pertain to him . . . they had to. Because she hadn't been acting strangely with anyone else.

He wanted so badly for his supposition to be correct, but even still, he wasn't sure he was quite ready to have that conversation with her tonight. Things had been awkward for months, he needed a little more than an hour's notice if he was about to have a major life shift. But he realized that he probably should say something to her. Just so she'd know that he was willing to talk too.

That this separation was also killing him.

In his heart he did kind of feel like they'd broken up. It was almost better when he was just letting her lie to him and he was pretending that he believed her. At least then they had some interaction, sometimes he could pretend things were normal. The same way he had last week with that shit case.

It was a distraction, he was in Agent mode. And per usual Hotch had him and Em split up. But for once he hadn't minded. It was easier to just go about his work with Reid or Rossi and forget about the damn woman that was breaking his heart.

But once they were home he didn't know what to do with himself. He couldn't talk to her normally, he couldn't talk to anyone normally. The whole team dynamic was just . . . off.

And poor Reid, he was stuck out in the bullpen with them all day. At first Spencer had tried to pull them each into a conversation, but the awkward pauses had killed his efforts. Luckily for him Rossi had grabbed him at the last minute to fill in some time on a lecture at the Academy that afternoon.

But Emily was right, they couldn't go on like this. Not if they wanted to keep working together. He was actually amazed that Hotch hadn't hauled both of them into his office yet.

Actually though, with the exception of getting called in for Hotch to apologize for reaming him out a couple weeks ago, Morgan hadn't had anything resembling a personal conversation with his boss in quite a while. The afternoon they spoke Hotch had told him that he had some "family issues" the day of their "incident" and he apologized for losing his temper and behaving so unprofessionally.

Derek could see that the apology was sincere. After all Hotch had disappeared the next day for reasons unknown to the team in general, so Morgan had connected the dots and told him it was okay.

As hurt as he'd been at the time about what had happened, Derek knew that it _had_ been out of character for Hotch to act out like that, especially in front of everyone. The two of them had certainly had their run-ins over the years, but that always was related to work. Hotch enforcing the precious 'rules.' But even then, the man had never raised his voice except behind closed doors.

So things were cool with the two of them again, but he hadn't quite figured out why Hotch hadn't forced him and Emily to make up as well. It's not as though something like this would have escaped his notice. Though as Derek thought about it, he suddenly pictured them leaving for their morning coffee breaks. And Derek had earlier deduced from that development that Hotch and Emily were friendly now, so that's probably why Hotch hadn't called him in to make up with her.

She had simply asked him not to.

Though Morgan found it hard to believe that Emily would have told him about what happened in the parking garage, all she really would have had to say was that they'd had a fight and to let her handle it. Morgan could see Hotch going along with that.

For awhile anyway.

But eventually he was going to step in, and Derek really didn't want to have this personal a conversation with Emily in front of their boss. Not to mention he was also tired of being the sideshow on display for the entire team.

He knew that wasn't their fault, they were obviously just concerned and kind of stuck in the middle. Mostly their interactions with both of them were pretty neutral, though it was clear that Baby Girl, even though he hadn't told her exactly what had happened, was more on his side than Emily's. Which was sweet, but he didn't want a problem to develop between the two of them.

Which . . . he realized with a sigh . . . was one more reason that he really should take Emily up on her offer to talk tonight.

And as he looked up . . . about to give her a nod . . . he saw that she was gone. His brow furrowed . . . she was right there. As he checked his watch though he saw that he'd been daydreaming for about fifteen minutes. Apparently she'd slipped out without him noticing.

Shit!

Nice one Derek. She extends an olive branch and you ignore her for almost two hours until she up and leaves. Probably now upset assuming you didn't want to fix things.

He flashed on her crying that day in the garage and he felt a stab of guilt as he hoped that she wasn't that upset again. He was about to run out to see if he could catch up with her when he looked down at the work on his desk . . . God damn it . . . he couldn't leave yet. He'd been screwing around for half the afternoon and had barely gotten anything done.

Hotch needed this report by nine am tomorrow.

Okay . . . he refocused his attention on the paperwork he'd been staring blankly at . . . write this damn report and then go over to her house.

It would probably take him a couple of hours to finish his work, but if she wanted to talk tonight, then they would talk tonight.

/*/*/*/*/

Hotch looked down at Emily slumped against his side. The tears running down her face were leaving mascara tracks that were breaking his heart. She'd called him from the car to tell him that Derek had read her note and then ignored her for the rest of the afternoon. That it was obvious from his silence that he hadn't wanted to make up, and that apparently she'd screwed things up so badly that he didn't even want to talk to her about it.

She was already in tears when she called him so Hotch had told her to pull over to the Starbucks down the street from the Academy. That he'd meet her there in five minutes and follow her home.

Then he'd run out of his office, shooting Morgan a quick unnoticed glare as he saw him working away like he hadn't just broken his girl's heart.

That was an hour ago. They'd been home for almost forty minutes.

And just like the night of their fight in the garage, Emily hadn't stopped crying since she got home. Hotch was afraid she was going to make herself sick, but he also knew that she needed to get this out. Her relationship with Morgan had meant so much to her. And she'd been so hopeful about her plans to fix things that he really didn't think it had occurred to her that Derek might not want to talk to her at all.

Honestly, it hadn't occurred to Hotch either. He hadn't been sure Derek would forgive her right away for what had happened, but he had at least assumed that he'd give her the chance to explain herself. And though he knew it was wrong, Derek was the injured party here, part of Hotch was pissed off at him for making her cry.

Hotch pulled Emily over into his lap and wrapped his arms around her. As she sniffled against his dress shirt, he felt his heart break a little more. So it only took him a second to make a decision he was pretty sure he wouldn't regret.

And bringing his head down, he pressed his lips to her ear. "You want to hear a secret?"

Emily tipped her head back and wiped her hand across her face.

"What is it?"

He gave her a soft smile as he whispered conspiratorially, "I think I'm falling in love with you Agent Prentiss."

It wasn't the L word yet, it was just putting her on notice that it was coming. Perhaps he wouldn't have said anything at all, but she was just so sad that he couldn't think of anything to make her feel better except maybe that. And as he'd hoped, her eyes lit up, and for a moment the sadness was gone as she sniffled again and asked hopefully, "really?"

He kissed her once on the mouth and then again on the forehead before he looked into her eyes and nodded.

"Really, truly."

For a second Emily forgot about Derek as she felt a burst of happiness fill her. This wonderful man that she adored more and more every day, was falling in love with her! She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck as she whispered back.

"I think really, truly I might be falling in love with you too Agent Hotchner."

Feeling a wave of relieve and happiness wash over him, Hotch squeezed Emily tightly to his chest. He hadn't realized how much it would mean to hear her say that back to him.

They might be falling into the unknown, but at least they were falling together.

Emily suddenly pictured Derek again, how he'd looked when she'd left . . . like he didn't even know that she existed. And she felt that wave of sadness push back against her happiness. But it didn't quite wash over her, not like it had when she left the office.

Because now she had hope. It was no longer just her against the world. She was becoming part of an 'us.' Us and Them. She'd never been an Us before.

It made her feel strong.

Emily tucked her head against Hotch's neck as she tried to stop crying. Then she ran the back of her hand under her nose, mumbling something that Hotch couldn't quite make out.

He rubbed his hand down her back, "what was that sweetheart?"

She wiped the corner of her eye as she sniffled again.

"I said I think I want some ice cream. My throat's getting dry."

That was the problem with crying, you always got dehydrated.

As he tipped his head back, Hotch eyeballed the refrigerator, trying to picture the contents.

"I think you might have finished it up on Monday," he looked down at her, "but I can go get you some if you want."

God, he'd go buy her a unicorn if he thought it would make her feel better.

Emily leaned back slightly and gave him a watery smile, "if you really don't mind. Otherwise I can go get it myself."

He gave her a good-natured combination head shake/eye roll, "of course I don't mind sweetheart," his lip quirked up, "you want some sour patch kids too?"

Emily was starting to get cravings. And they'd begun, oddly enough, with something Hotch had never heard of before.

Sour Patch Kids.

He'd tried one, thought they tasted disgusting, but she couldn't get enough. He now kept a little zip lock baggy of them in his inside jacket pocket for emergencies. With everything that had been going on he'd had to refill it three times in the past two weeks.

Her eyes crinkled.

"Yes please, and some nachos and salsa if it's not too much trouble."

His mouth twitched before he kissed her and then patted her stomach.

"Baby's planning quite a party tonight huh?"

Feeling her cheeks get a little warm Emily looked up at him, "it's just that I don't know what I want so . . ."

Hotch cut her off with another kiss, and this time his eyes were soft when he pulled back.

"Sweetheart, I'm just teasing. I'll get whatever you want. But fair warning," he shot her a mock glare as he placed her on the couch next to him so he could stand, "I'm getting you something healthy too."

"Agreed," she put her hand out so he could pull her up, "I will eat a vegetable for every item of junk food."

He pulled her against him as he nodded firmly, "I'm going to hold you to that one," then he winked at her and she gave him a shy smile in return.

Yep . . . he felt that familiar warmth in his chest . . . definitely falling fast.

But as he looked down at her puffy eyes and the mascara on her face, he felt a dig of sadness and he knew he couldn't leave her like that. So before she knew what was happening he leaned down, scooped her up and pulled her to his chest.

A little surprised at being hoisted off the ground, Emily laughed as her arm went around his neck, "where are you taking me?"

He tipped his chin towards the other room, "just over here."

Hotch brought her into the kitchen and sat her on the counter next to the sink. Ignoring the questioning look she was giving him, he wet a piece of paper towel and started gently wiping off her face.

As he stood back a moment later to assess his cleanup job, Emily's eyes crinkled as she asked jokingly, "so what's the verdict? Am I beautiful again?"

Unlikely she was even passing as anything better than 'not ugly' at the moment. Even if Hotch had cleaned up the black streaks, she'd been crying off and on for an hour. So she knew from experience that her eyes were all puffed up, her nose was red and her cheeks were splotchy.

Not exactly the hallmarks of an attractive woman.

He cupped her jaw with his hand, wiping away a bit of makeup he'd missed the first time as he answered her absentmindedly, "you're always beautiful sweetheart," then he focused in on the question and his head tipped quizzically as he looked into her eyes, "don't you know that?"

Her eyes started to sting again and she pulled him closer, wrapping her arms around his neck and then her legs around his waist.

"You're the best boyfriend ever," she whispered.

As she felt his arms wrap around her, she was ready to tell him to forget about the run to the store and that she just wanted to go to bed. Even if it was barely six-thirty, and even if they couldn't have sex yet, that was still her favorite place to be with him.

They could cuddle.

And making out was allowed, provided it didn't actually become foreplay. Though unfortunately they did get a little carried away last week and then Hotch had to go for a run.

It would be best if that didn't happen again.

Still though, she was about to open her mouth to tell him to stay home, but then her stomach rumbled. And she realized now that she'd stopped crying for a bit that she was actually hungry. Her meal routine was rather regimented since she'd gotten pregnant and she should have eaten something an hour ago.

So instead of telling him to stay, she just sighed, and then kissed his cheek before she pulled back.

Hotch played with the tips of her hair as he said softly, "I'll be back in twenty. You put on your pajamas and find a movie," his lip quirked up, "and then you can eat all of your disgusting junk food in bed and make me clean it up afterwards. Sound like a plan?"

He actually had case files to review but he had no intention of taking them out of his bag tonight. Making her feel better was his only priority.

Emily smiled as she scooted forward and gave him a quick kiss, "sounds like a good plan," Hotch lifted her off the counter and she leaned up to kiss him goodbye, "hurry back."

Hotch was just about to grab his gun and badge off the table behind them and he turned back to wink at her, "back before you know it."

It was clear that the tears were simply on hold for a moment so he really didn't want to be gone longer than a few minutes. Any more time than that and she'd start getting depressed again. Hell, she could easily burst into tears the moment he walked out the door. Which was . . . he gave her a quick kiss on the forehead as he headed out . . . all the more reason to hurry.

Just as he was stepping out he turned back, "lock up sweetheart."

It was something he said every time he left her, just out of habit. But tonight he actually was a little worried that she was distracted enough that she would forget.

Having already anticipated his request, Emily was right on his heels with a little smile, "all over it hon."

She gave him a little wave as she shut the door and turned the deadbolt. Once she was alone, she took a deep breath, trying to ward off the sadness that tried to well up once again. It was easier to keep her spirits up when he was here. Time alone was time to think, and she didn't want to think about a world where Derek hated her so much that he wouldn't even talk to her.

At that thought of course her eyes immediately traveled across the room to the pictures on the bookcase.

Even though she was too far away to see the images clearly, she knew which one was the Christmas party photo. Which one showed Morgan's arm around her. Feeling the tears about to well up again she quickly shook her head, muttering to herself, "Aaron will be back soon. You don't want him to find you crying again."

It was clear to her how much it bothered him to see her upset so she didn't want to make this day any worse for either of them. For a little while at least she was going to try and put things out of her mind, just keep busy for the next twenty minutes and then curl up with Hotch when he got home.

She started towards the stairs trying to decide on a movie. Maybe Aliens.

Ass kicking Ripley always cheered her up.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Emily felt better after she'd splashed cold water on her face and changed out of her work clothes into her now standard sleepwear, a pair of Hotch's boxers and a tank top. Even though the AC was on she'd noticed lately that she was often a little warm.

Given that in the past she was usually a bit cold she'd decided that was probably her hormones.

Having decided while she was changing that Ripley was indeed a good choice, when Emily came back downstairs she pulled Aliens out from the cabinet under the television. As she checked the clock she saw it hadn't even been fifteen minutes since Hotch left.

So after putting the movie on the stairs to take up a little later, she picked up her and Hotch's suit jackets off the back of the couch so they wouldn't get wrinkled. She put them on two hangars from the hall closet and then hung their coats on the railing to go upstairs with them when he got home.

Okay . . . she'd killed ninety two seconds. What else?

Drink.

She was still thirsty so she went into the kitchen to get a glass of milk. The doctor had told her she hadn't gained as much weight as was typical in the first trimester. She'd explained to him that was probably because of all the junk food that she'd cut out of her diet. He said that was probable, but he still wanted her to increase her calorie intake and suggested whole milk as being a good place to start. She was supposed to drink at least a glass a day for both the calories and the calcium.

After she got over the sensation that she was drinking straight cream, it was actually okay. Though she really couldn't drink the whole stuff more than once a day, it was so thick she usually needed a water chaser. But to compensate she did make sure to have a couple glasses of two percent as well. Between all the milk and the water she felt like she basically spent half of her life in the bathroom. She couldn't even imagine how much worse that was going to be once the baby was really pressing on her bladder.

Emily wandered around the kitchen slowly sipping her glass of milk, stopping once to stare down at her toes. She really should change her polish, it was starting to fade. Then she realized that there would be a point soon where she wouldn't even be able to see her feet.

God . . . her nose wrinkled . . . that was going to be so weird.

Shaking off thoughts of all the changes her body was starting to go through, she polished off the last of her milk and put the glass in the sink. Then she realized she was just being lazy and moved the dirty glass over the two feet to the dishwasher.

Okay . . . milk drinking had killed another two minutes so, barring lines in the store or major traffic, Hotch should conceivably be back any time now.

And speak of the devil . . . she heard a knock on the door and smiled . . . he made good time.

She padded over and undid the deadbolt, "did you forget your new . . . "

"Morgan."

Jaw gaping Emily stared at Derek for a moment . . . oh shit! Morgan! And Hotch was going to be home any minute!

Morgan rubbed his hand across his mouth, feeling a stab of guilt as he saw all of her makeup was gone and her puffy eyes.

She had been crying.

For a moment he didn't know what to say, but then he remembered that she was the last one to make an effort so he knew it was his turn.

He cleared his throat, "I'm sorry I didn't get back to you earlier this afternoon. I was thinking about what you'd said in your note, and then you were gone before I realized it," he reached out and touched her arm, "if you still want to talk I'm here now."

There . . . the ball was back in her court.

Her mind racing, Emily chewed her lip . . . what to do, what to do?

If she sent him away now for no reason that would be the end of their relationship. No doubt. And half of her was so happy to see him, but the rest of her was having a complete panic attack that Hotch was going to walk in the door and Morgan would end up getting so much more information tonight than she had been planning on sharing.

Really though . . . she quickly came to a decision . . . there was just no way that she could send him away before talking for at least a minute. After he came all this way he would NEVER understand her turning him away now.

So after sending up a little prayer for traffic, for just a second she put aside her panic about all of this blowing up in her face, and simply focused in on her relief at the realization that he really did want to talk.

He didn't hate her.

They could still fix this. And that knowledge suddenly sinking in made her so happy that she spontaneously leaned up to wrap her arms around his neck, "I absolutely do want to talk," her eyes closed as she squeezed him tightly, "I've missed you so much."

Feeling a burst of joy at both her words and being able to hold her like this, Morgan's arms came around her and he dipped his head down to breathe in her perfume. He hadn't been this close to her in months. Probably the last time she'd given him a hug was Christmas.

She missed him. That made him so happy, because God knows he'd missed her like crazy.

He was still a little on the fence on his way over. But taking in her reaction at seeing him, her obvious tears, and the words in her note, he was suddenly positive that his supposition was correct.

She did have feelings for him. That was why she'd been acting so strangely.

Emily leaned back, giving him a little smile as her eyes immediately tracked to the clock on the wall. Traffic or not, Hotch was going to be home anytime within the next ten minutes.

They needed to get out of the house.

"I do want to talk Derek but I um," she tried desperately to think of an excuse for them to have to go out, "um, need to go to the store." As she saw his look of confusion, she realized how stupid that sounded, and she gave him an apologetic smile as she tried to think of the only possible thing that would necessitate an immediate trip to the market rather than sitting down with him to fix their situation.

Tampons!

Her eyes lit up, "I need some girl stuff."

There, that should work! She'd get him out of the house and send Hotch a quick text message that she'd gone out with Morgan.

Good thought Em! Good thought!

She was just about to shove Derek back out the door when he gestured down to her outfit, "uh okay, but you do know that you're basically in your underwear right now?"

Emily's eyes dropped down to her clothes . . . crap . . . then she took note of the baby bump and she quickly wrapped her arms around her stomach to cover it before he noticed too.

One thing at a time, and noticing her slightly protruding belly was not the way to break _that_ news to him.

Then she looked up with a sheepish smile, "right, sorry, I uh, forgot. I was just about to go get dressed when you knocked."

'_That's good Em, no weapon, opening the door half dressed without even checking the peephole first. Good thing that wasn't Hotch on the other side or he would have had your head.' _

At the thought of Hotch coming home any minute she realized she really needed to haul ass upstairs and pull on a pair of jeans and a bra so they could get out of there.

Just as she was about to turn away Morgan grabbed her hand, "wait Em, uh, I don't think I can stand to wait another hour to have our conversation," he gave her a little smile, "and if you want to tell me what I think you want to tell me then I want you to know that I absolutely feel the same way."

Momentarily forgetting about the ticking clock, Emily's brow wrinkled in confusion, "I'm sorry?"

What could that possibly mean?

Derek stared at her for a moment, not wanting to completely declare his undying love to her, but wanting to give her a sign so she'd know they were on the same page. It was obvious from how she'd been acting that she was nervous about saying something.

Besides, he was the man, he should go first.

He squeezed her fingers, "from your note I figured out what you wanted to tell me. Why you've been acting so strangely, so I wanted to tell you, I forgive you. Because I remember how I felt when I realized and I think I was acting a little strangely around you too."

For a moment Emily stared at him in abject confusion, running the lines of her note through her head and juxtaposing them against the words that had just come out of his mouth.

What could he possibly be talking about?

Then her eyes widened in comprehension. He was . . . and he thought . . . NO, NO, NO, NO! This was not happening! Oh God, this was not happening!

Her eyes dropped to the ground. Why God? Why are you doing this to us?

After taking a deep breath to bolster her courage, she looked back up with a sad smile, "Derek that's not," she cleared her throat, God this sucked, "that's not what I wanted to . . ."

Suddenly she heard a key in the lock and a shot of adrenaline went through her body.

_OH NO! HOTCH, NOT NOW!_

Hearing the scraping of the lock, Morgan looked over at the door in surprise.

Emily didn't have a roommate. So who the hell . . .?

He looked back to see Emily's eyes wide with panic. But she didn't have time to say anything besides, "Derek . . . I" before Hotch stepped inside, keys dangling from his hand as he looked down at the grocery bag he was lugging.

"Sweetheart, they didn't have . . ."

And then he looked up . . . and his jaw dropped.

OH SHIT! MORGAN!

His eyes caught with Emily's across the room and he saw the panic in them.

What the FUCK? He'd only gone out for fifteen minutes!

Emily wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

Feeling the blood draining from his face, Morgan looked back and forth between the two of them.

What the . . .?

Suddenly her last words permeated his brain . . . that wasn't what she wanted to tell him. And then it all came to him in a flash, the time Hotch and Emily spent together, the pairing off, the overnight trip. He hadn't been crazy . . . he felt a burst of jealousy . . . they WERE having an affair!

Wait though . . . his eyes stopped on Hotch frozen by the door . . . he had a key.

He had a key and he'd called her sweetheart. This wasn't just an affair.

This was a relationship.

His eyes snapped back over to Emily . . . he could see the tears pooling.

"I'm so sorry you found out this way Derek," she whispered. Then she shook her head, "this wasn't supposed to happen like this. And I had no idea that you felt the way you did, if I had . . ."

And she trailed off.

If she had . . . what? Looking back, she really didn't see anything that she could have done differently. Perhaps if she had known how he'd felt she could have been more sensitive to his feelings. And she sure as hell would have been more explicit about her intentions in her note to him today! But really, being sensitive would have just reinforced her belief that keeping their relationship a secret from him would be best.

No matter what . . . they still would have arrived at this moment. Of course short of walking in on them in bed together, this was the worst possible way for him to find out about it.

Feeling a wave of humiliation hit him, Derek's head dropped down.

He'd never felt like such a fool. Here he'd come over to declare his feelings for her because he'd convinced himself that she felt the same way, and it turned out that all this time . . . the anger started to rise up . . . she was sleeping with the boss.

His jaw started to twitch.

He wanted to disappear, but he seemed to be frozen in place. Suddenly motion caught his eye and his gaze shifted over to see Emily nervously rubbing her stomach.

Her tank top had ridden up slightly . . . no, scratch that . . . her tank top didn't quite fit her. He hadn't noticed that before. He'd been trying not to stare when he'd first walked in and seen her half dressed. But now his gaze narrowed as he looked down . . . she wasn't . . . his eyes widened as they snapped back up to her face.

"Girl, are you . . . pregnant?" His voice was like sandpaper.

Emily stared at him for a moment without any expression, and then she nodded slowly.

"Yes," she whispered, "_that's_ what I wanted to talk to you about tonight. I've wanted to tell you Derek, but I waited so long, and I didn't know how to tell you before so I ended up screwing things up between us."

All those days she'd wished she just had the guts to say the words and be done with it. She wanted those days back. Because she'd been convinced back then that if she just got it off her chest that she'd feel a weight lifted. But now that she knew how he felt about her, she didn't feel that way.

She was simply filled with despair.

The look on Morgan's face was excruciating to see. She was pretty sure if she took out a gun right now and shot him it would hurt less than what she'd just said.

God, why couldn't she have just told him these things over at his apartment! In private. He still would have been hurt but she could have at least saved him the embarrassment of having them so cruelly thrown in his face.

The exchange between Emily and Morgan was enough to break Hotch from his paralysis by the door.

He dropped the groceries and his keys on the counter and hurried over to Emily.

Even in his astonishment at walking in on this scene, he had picked up on her words to Derek, _"the way he felt about her."_

Christ, Derek had feelings for her! When the hell did that happen?

Whenever it was, those feelings had clearly made this go so much worse than it would have if Derek's concern for her was purely fraternal. This still would have been a terrible way for him to find out everything, but that would have just been awkward and embarrassing.

This was just painful.

And they were clearly well past the point of protecting Morgan's feelings. Hotch could see he was devastated. And though he didn't want to grind any glass into his wounds, Hotch wasn't about to leave Emily hanging by herself like she was wearing a scarlet letter.

But for Morgan's sake, beyond quickly gliding his hand over her back, Hotch made no move to touch her. He just stood next to her.

Emily wanted to reach over and take Hotch's hand, but she knew that it would just be insult to injury for Morgan. It would have to be enough simply that Hotch was with her.

Derek was seeing all of his dreams of a future with Emily shatter in front of him. If only he hadn't convinced himself that she'd felt the same way.

This reality had never occurred to him. Not after he'd convinced himself he was just letting his jealousy blind his feelings for her. But it turned out she really was with Hotch . . . and apparently she had been for awhile because she was pregnant enough to be showing.

How could he have been so stupid as to not see this?

And though a small part of him knew it was unfair, his pain was suddenly shoved aside as he was filled with a righteous fury at the man in front of him.

THAT BASTARD! THAT SON OF A BITCH! HOW COULD HE DO THIS!

Though he couldn't quite meet her eyes, Derek's gaze snapped over to Emily's face as he slowly ground out, "I'd like to speak to Hotch for a moment."

That didn't seem like a particularly good idea to Emily. Not given the expression on Morgan's face. Anger was now clearly overriding the hurt. She shot a worried look at Hotch, but he just gave her a little smile and whispered, "it's fine sweetheart."

Seeing Morgan wince at the endearment Hotch felt like an asshole. Here he was trying to NOT make the poor guy feel any worse and he had anyway. But the sweetheart had slipped out by habit.

Emily stared at Hotch for a moment before nodding.

If it was anyone else she'd feel like the little woman being sent out of the room while the men decided her fate. But she knew Hotch, and she knew he wouldn't do that to her.

This was about them.

Her eyes slid over to Morgan again and she whispered, "I am sorry about all of this Derek," her voice broke as a tear slid down her face, "truly, but it's not his fault . . . it just happened."

She stared at Derek for a moment but his jaw was clenched and he wouldn't meet her eyes. Picturing the look on his face only a moment ago, how happy he was, she felt a terrible pain in her chest. She wanted to touch him, to give him a hug, to try and make him feel better. But she knew that her touch could offer no comfort.

Only more pain.

So instead she reached over to give Hotch's fingers a quick squeeze before she turned towards the stairs.

Both men watched as she slowly went up the staircase. Hotch's face softened as he saw her looking back at him, tears in her eyes as she unconsciously rubbed her stomach.

He mouthed the words, "it's okay," and she gave him a sad little smile as she turned away.

Once she had disappeared down the hallway he turned back to Morgan. "Listen Derek . . ."

And Morgan sucker punched him.

Blood splattered on Hotch's shirt as Morgan's fist connected with his nose.

"FUCK!"

As he held one hand to his face, Hotch looked over at Morgan in disbelief. He'd known Derek was upset, hell he'd known he was about to get the riot act read to him . . . but he had not known he was about to get punched in the FUCKING nose!

JESUS CHRIST THAT HURT!

Ignoring the look of pain and astonishment on Hotch's face, and the possible consequences to what he had just done, Derek started in on him, his words dripping in bitterness, "all these years you've been in my face about the rules and protocol and riding my ass every time I stepped out of line," he jammed his finger in Hotch's chest, "and you," his voice filled with fury, "YOU, hypocritical son of a bitch! You've been FUCKING one of your agents! Did you even wait until you were divorced to start to hit that?"

Derek's breath caught and he froze, instantly feeling a stab of shame for talking about Emily that way. But he had done it to hurt Hotch, to throw it in his in his face.

To make _him_ feel ashamed for what he had done. _His_ hypocrisy.

But all Morgan had done was make himself feel ashamed for being so disrespectful about someone that he cared so much for. As upset as he was with her now, it didn't change the fact that he loved her.

Nice way to show it Derek.

Busted nose forgotten, Hotch was suddenly filled with fury and before more than a splash of surprise hit the younger man's face, he had slammed Derek against the wall, leaning up in his face as he spoke with deadly calm.

"I know that you're hurt and upset, so I'm cutting you some major slack right now. We're going to forget about the nose, but if you ever," his eyes narrowed, "EVER, under any circumstances, speak about her like that in front of me again, I will clean your clock, do you understand me Morgan?"

Feeling another wave of shame fill him, Derek's gaze shifted as he nodded. He deserved that. He would have reacted the same way if he'd heard somebody talk about her that way.

Hotch stepped back, temper still raging. Then he started to feel slightly queasy from the blood in his throat and he went over to the sink to rinse his mouth out. Then he turned back to Derek. And the men stared at each other for a moment, each trying to get their emotions under control.

He'd come close to breaking Morgan's face for that one. Hotch knew he was just lashing out, and he could see from the look on his face that he regretted it as soon as he'd said it. But Hotch didn't care how upset he was, he did NOT get to talk about Emily like that.

Nobody did.

His sense of betrayal finally overrode his sense of shame, forcing Morgan to break the silence first, his voice filled with anguish, "I'm sorry for what I said. But how could you do that man? For _months_ I've been keeping my feelings to myself because I thought you'd never allow it."

He knew that there was no guarantee that Emily would have felt the same way about him. But at least he would have had a chance to find out.

Now he'd never know if maybe she would have taken a shot with him.

Feeling his anger start to fade, Hotch remembered again how hard this was for Morgan, especially finding out this way. His countenance softened as he took a step closer.

"Derek, please believe me when I say that I never even suspected that your feelings for Emily were anything more than what they appeared to be on the surface . . . simply friendship. If you had come to me six months ago and said you had feelings for someone in the Unit I would have told you to be cautious, and to keep it out of the office, but," he shook his head in confusion, "I _never_ would have reprimanded you for something like that. And I don't know why you thought that I would have. As far as I'm concerned, you're welcome to pursue a relationship with anyone you wish."

Of course he was selfishly grateful that Morgan hadn't gone after Emily earlier. But really, Hotch didn't think that would have made much difference in the final outcome. If she'd wanted to be with Derek then she would have been with Derek. But she'd told Hotch herself that her feelings for him were like that of a big brother. Familial love was unlikely to change to romantic love.

Hotch did not think that this was the time to point that out to Morgan though.

Morgan looked over at him incredulously.

"Anyone . . . I . . . but . . ." He was so thrown that he stammered for a moment, "but the _rules_ man . . . you're always ALL about the rules!"

Was he in some sort of alternate universe?

Hotch stared at Morgan for a moment in confusion. And then comprehension came and sadness filled his eyes. "It's just a job Derek . . ." he shook his head slowly, "it's not your life."

It had never occurred to him that Morgan, of all people, would have so rigorously followed such an archaic policy. Yes, Hotch had busted their asses when it came to doing the work, making sure their behavior reflected well on the bureau, and most importantly that they always followed procedure so they'd stay safe. Granted he had come down hard on Morgan for that last one over the years because he took too many chances. But he would never tell ANYONE who they could . . . or couldn't . . . fall in love with.

That wasn't something you could dictate. If you could find any chance to be happy, you should take it.

Morgan blinked . . . just a job.

Six years he'd been with Hotch, the man busted his balls almost daily, drilling policy and procedure into his head, and _now_ he says it's "just a job."

He didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

What he did know was that he needed to get out of Emily's . . . he corrected himself as he pictured that key dangling from Hotch's hand . . . _their_ home.

He'd made a fool of himself. It was obvious that his personal feelings for her had resulted in him completely misconstruing her note. In light of what he now knew he could see what she had been actually saying.

Her feelings about recent developments meant her relationship with Hotch and her pregnancy.

He winced slightly as the reality of the situation set in . . . Emily was having Hotch's baby.

As though Hotch could read his mind, he suddenly spoke from a few feet away where he was getting some Kleenex for his nose.

"It's not mine."

Morgan turned to look at him in confusion.

"What?"

Hotch looked down . . . Emily had wanted to tell Derek all of this herself but clearly she hadn't had a chance before he walked in. Crap. Well, at this point it probably didn't matter who told him as long as he knew before he left. He didn't want to leave Morgan with the impression that Baby was his. Even though he did feel that way now, it still wasn't right. Not to mention, it would also lead Derek to believe that their relationship had begun much earlier than it had.

So with a sigh he looked back up.

"Remember that asshole she was dating like six months ago?" As Morgan's eyes widened in understanding, Hotch nodded, "his. She had to tell me she was pregnant because of work, but she didn't want it to be common knowledge yet. And she doesn't really have anyone outside of the team so she and I started spending more time together, and . . ." he shook his head sadly, "I'm so sorry about this Derek. We didn't plan it, it just happened."

That was definitely the abbreviated version of Baby's conception and the start of their relationship, but it was really all that Morgan needed to know.

Feeling another burst of pain in his chest, Morgan swallowed over the bile in his throat . . . it just happened. If only he'd known earlier about Emily's situation maybe it could have "just happened" for him. He would have been there for her. Didn't she know that he would have been there for her? He would have helped her. She didn't have to go to Hotch. They hadn't even been friends before.

Emily had been his for years, not Hotch's.

As Derek stared at this man who had taken everything that he wanted, everything that would have made him happy, the fury was gone.

Now it was just a dull ache of resentment.

And then his gaze shifted past him to the bag of groceries on the counter. The ones Hotch had gone out to get her. Though Morgan knew that he should go before things got worse . . . if that was possible . . . instead he walked over and looked inside the paper bag.

_. . . Chubby Hubby ice cream_

_. . . a bag of sour patch kids_

_. . . jar of salsa_

_. . . tortilla chips_

_. . . and . . . a vegetable plate._

Given all the junk food, Morgan sensed that the vegetables were significant. And he tried to push aside his resentment as he looked back up at Hotch questioningly.

"The vegetables?"

Feeling very uncomfortable about having his feelings for Emily being analyzed by another profiler, Hotch set his jaw as he looked back at Derek.

"I don't like her to eat too much junk food. It's not good for her or . . . the baby."

Fortunately he'd caught himself just before he said "Baby." That would have been great.

Morgan stared at Hotch for a moment and then his eyes dropped down to the bag again as he said softly, "you're in love with her, aren't you?"

Hotch's gaze automatically shifted towards the stairs, but there was no sign of Emily. Then he realized that if she was close enough to hear what was going on she would have come running when they were fighting a moment ago. He looked back at Morgan, nodding slowly.

"Yes, but she doesn't know that yet."

At Hotch's confirmation, the last of Derek's anger faded.

He was in love with her.

And he'd seen how Emily had looked at Hotch when she went up the stairs. It was obvious that she felt the same way. The profiler in him could see how this evening had played out.

Derek hadn't gotten back to her at the office about her note and that had hurt her terribly. She'd assumed that he was too pissed at her to want to talk. He'd seen the puffiness around her eyes so he knew that he had made her cry. So she'd come home in tears, and Hotch, a man who usually worked seventy plus hours a week, but tonight had run past Derek at 5:20, had probably held her while she cried and had then had gone out to get her all the junk food she asked for.

Just to make her feel better.

But he'd still brought back carrot sticks and cherry tomatoes because he wanted to make sure that she and her baby stayed healthy.

A baby that wasn't even his.

Derek's eyes burned . . . if he had to lose her to anyone, it would be to someone who would love her like that.

Like he would have.

That's when he realized that their relationship wasn't any of his business. It wasn't Emily's fault that he'd fallen in love with her. Just like it wasn't Hotch and Emily's fault that they'd fallen in love with each other.

It was just life.

At least this time she'd finally found someone who would take care of her like she deserved, even if it was their boss.

Their boss.

Morgan winced as he looked at the blood all over Hotch's dress shirt . . . he'd punched his boss in the nose.

Christ.

With a slightly pained expression he gestured towards Hotch's chest, "I'm sorry about that. I shouldn't have lost my temper that way."

As he thought about it Morgan realized he was lucky Hotch hadn't taken his head off for that one.

Hotch looked down and shook his head slightly.

"Forget it."

If their positions were reversed . . . given how Hotch himself felt about Emily now . . . if he'd suddenly discovered that she was involved with Morgan, he might have taken a swing at someone too.

Derek nodded slightly before he shot him a worried look. "Please don't tell Emily what I said. I didn't mean it. I was just . . ."

Hotch cut him off.

"I know, I know that you didn't mean it. I won't tell her."

The men stared at each other for a moment, both knowing that an understanding of sorts was being reached. And then Derek blinked and started towards the door.

"I should go. Please tell Emily I'm sorry for barging in, I uh," he huffed humorlessly to himself, "obviously should have called first."

As Derek put his hand on the knob, Hotch called out.

"Morgan wait . . . I know that Emily wants to talk to you. She's felt terrible for weeks about your fight. And I know what happened tonight is going to make things harder, but please let her explain herself," he took a breath, knowing it was slightly unfair but he tried to appeal to Derek's affection for Emily, "she cried for an hour tonight, I know it's a lot to ask right now but please just let her apologize."

Feeling his eyes begin to burn, Morgan stared at the doorknob as he said hoarsely, "I can't do that right now man," he swallowed hard over the lump in his throat, "uh, I have some time banked . . ."

The last thing Derek wanted to do was get up in twelve hours and go sit and stare across the desk at her again. Watching the two of them at work, knowing what he knew now. He needed some time away from the situation.

Time to adjust.

As much as Hotch wanted him to stay and talk to Emily, he didn't make him ask the question.

"Take it. Take the weekend. I'll see you Monday."

Derek nodded as he said softly, "thank you," and then he blinked away the moisture in his eyes before he looked back over his shoulder. "Take good care of her."

Hotch stared at him for a moment before nodding slowly.

"Of course . . . but . . . are we okay Derek?"

With a sigh Morgan put his hand on the knob again, "I don't know. Ask me again in a week." And with that he opened the door and stepped into the hall.

Hotch watched him go and then muttered a curse under his breath.

"Shit."

/*/*/*/*/*

Emily anxiously paced back and forth across her bedroom. It had been over ten minutes since she left the two of them alone. If Hotch didn't come get her soon she was going back downstairs.

Just then the door pushed open and she saw Hotch walking in with a bowl of ice cream that he put on the nightstand. Her eyes widened as she looked at his swollen nose and bare chest.

"What happened to your face?" Her gaze dropped down, "where's your shirt?"

Hotch took a breath. "We had a little altercation but we worked it out," and then he walked past her to grab a t-shirt out of one of his new drawers. Fortunately he'd brought over a few things last night because his ready bag was in the trunk. But he had not wanted Emily to see the blood on his shirt so he'd taken it off downstairs and left it, and the slightly bloody t-shirt underneath, soaking in her wash machine.

Emily stared at Hotch in horror.

"Alterca . . . he HIT you?!"

Oh God, she never should have left them alone!

Pausing as he unbuckled his belt, Hotch gave Emily a quick nod as he tried to gloss over that part.

"Yes, but I told you its okay. We're okay," he shook his head as he went back to undoing his pants, "no, that's not really true. I'm not sure if we're okay. But we talked. He's taking a couple days off."

Feeling her eyes start to tear up again, Emily dropped down on the bed as she whispered back.

"He's gone?"

He must really hate her now. She'd never had a chance to explain her earlier behavior and now he has all this shit to deal with too.

She wrapped her arms around her belly as she started rocking back and forth.

Hotch was just pulling on his sweatpants when he saw Emily's face fall. He quickly did the draw string as he hurried over to the bed.

After dropping down on his knees in front of her, he rubbed his hands along her bare calves.

"Sweetheart, he just needs some time. This was a really shitty evening for him. I told him that you wanted to talk to him, but I just don't think he was up for it right now. He's going to take the rest of the week off. Maybe you could leave him a voice mail later this weekend and ask him to give you a call when he wants to talk."

He wasn't sure if Morgan would appreciate hearing from her so soon, but now that everything was out in the open they had to at least make the effort to salvage their relationship. At least he and Derek had the opportunity to clear the air. God knows if that was going to make a difference though.

As her teeth sunk into her lip, Emily looked up at Hotch sadly.

"Maybe I should send him an email. He might not want to talk to me for a little while. At least that way I could apologize properly," her face crumpled, "I just feel so badly for him. I had no idea Aaron, not a clue, that he had developed romantic feelings for me," her voice broke, "I just thought of him like a big brother."

Poor Derek. That had to have been so awful for him, thinking her note meant . . . God she felt she felt like such a bitch. She hadn't realized she was sending him a mixed signal, but obviously she had.

Feeling his gut clench as Emily's eyes began to water, Hotch stood up. Then he leaned down and began gently rubbing her shoulder.

"Come on sweetheart, slide back and get into bed."

They wouldn't even have the blessing of her crying herself to sleep tonight. It was, unbelievably, only 7:30.

Emily sniffed, trying not to cry. She had already done so much crying already. She knew that was partly the hormones, but still, she didn't want to dissolve into sobs again. She felt awful afterward, drained and exhausted.

And she knew the stress of all this wasn't doing anything for Baby.

So she pulled her legs up and scooted back to the headboard before looking up at Hotch with watery eyes.

"I don't want to cry again."

He nodded slowly and then leaned down to give her a kiss before he passed her the bowl of ice cream he'd brought upstairs.

"Not ordinarily a dinner that I would encourage, but," he gave her a sad smile, "you had a bad day."

She took the bowl with a little smile as she sniffled again, "thank you."

Hotch watched her take a bite, slowly licking the spoon as she stared down at the wall. When she looked up at him he could see the tears were about to spill over, and then her voice cracked, "well maybe I could cry for a little bit."

He bit his lip as he reached over to take the bowl from her hands and put it back on the nightstand.

"Okay sweetheart," he climbed onto the bed and wrapped his body around hers as the tears started to run down her face. He kissed her forehead before whispering again, "okay."

Emily hid her face in his chest, letting his shirt absorb her tears. After a few minutes they began to taper off and she looked up at him.

"I want to watch my movie," she wiped her hand under her eye, "Ripley makes me feel better."

It was about the only thing that might make her feel better right now. Just getting lost in another world, one where two headed aliens with acid for blood were trying to kill you.

It sounded like heaven.

His eyes crinkled as he leaned down to kiss her.

"Okay, I'll go get it." He untangled his limbs from hers and stood up, heading towards the door. Then he turned back just before he walked out.

"I also ordered you a pizza."

And then he continued out the door and disappeared down the hall.

Emily was still wiping her face, but she turned to look at the empty doorway with a small smile as she whispered.

"I love you too."

* * *

_A/N 2: Long one :)_

_Not sure what you guys were expecting, but all along I had this image of Derek declaring his feelings for Emily as they stood in her living room and then immediately afterward they hear the key scraping in the lock and Hotch walks in. It was horrible and painful and so awkward, but I couldn't get rid of that flash in my head. So I actually wrote that first and then had to write the whole rest of the chapter around it. _

_Again, I didn't want anyone to really be a bad guy here so I tried to stay in everyone's head and "be them" for that moment I was writing their thoughts. And as I was 'being' Morgan, that's all I could think as a logical explanation for Emily's behavior and her note. That the big important thing she wanted to tell him was the big important thing he wanted to tell her. He wanted so badly for that to be true and it fell in line with her only acting strangely around him, and the 'developments' thing. I felt bad doing it to him but again, the chapter was worked around the image of him finding out about Hotch as he walked in the door. That HAD to happen and that was the only way I could make it happen. It was just a series of unfortunate misunderstandings that culminated in Morgan finding out in the worst way possible way everything that she'd wanted to tell him at her own pace. _

_And if you're wondering if it was OOC for him to have hit Hotch, picture just the whiplash of that moment of being convinced that he was maybe going to get the girl to only then discover in that way that in fact she and Hotch were involved in a committed relationship. That would have been "upsetting" in the extreme. Otherwise, told in a normal conversation with just Em, I don't believe he would have gone off and punched Hotch later. Probably still would have given him a piece of his mind, but not actually hit him. But the emotion of that moment, all of his feelings sort of tunnel into a moment of righteous anger that Hotch was the reason he had never said anything and it turns out Hotch is the one off doing his own thing. _

_And I thought Hotch's response made sense even though he is the spit and polish guy. Maybe because he's already had one failed relationship, but just the idea that you have to try and be happy and screw TPTB. I personally can't fathom the idea of falling in love with someone and then deciding that simply our job was a reason to throw that away._

_But now it's all out there. And now they'll have to move forward somehow. There will be aftershocks but I didn't want it all out there a huge lingering plot point. They are adults with serious jobs and they couldn't have that kind of personal problem hanging over them. It needed to be dealt with so it won't be a distraction on the job. I actually wrote the scene where Morgan and Emily do talk, and I was going to make that the closing chapter later that night. But then I decided it was too soon. He needs a little time to adjust. So I'll tuck that in perhaps in the next chapter. Not sure what else exactly I'm going to put in there. Like I said, pregnancy stuff will be coming up soon._

_Week 16-17 seem to be a big for tests. The baby's sex is well defined at this point (though it is possibly to see it earlier, this seems to be the common week to find out). Not sure if we'll get the sex, or let it be a surprise later. I kind of like Baby as Baby. Feel free to throw some pregnancy specific stuff at me to cover this little window of things to deal with at the doctor with her and Hotch when they go in to make sure everything is tip top with Baby._

_And on a lighter note, as I told Arc, in all my stories, this is the second member of the team to punch Hotch in the nose ("Of Broken Hearts & Broken Noses"). He's becoming the Marcia Brady of the BAU. This is also the third nose punching story overall in my collection :) Perhaps I should just make it a theme, JJ, Emily, Garcia, everybody takes a shot at him under different deliberate and accidental circumstances. Actually a story where Garcia ends up hitting Hotch in the face would probably be pretty funny. I'll have to check my challenge prompts to see if I have one that would work._

_Also, the Ripley thing was an homage to my dear beta. She knows :)_

_It'll probably be about a week before another update. I want to try to pull some threads forward on my other stories. They're beginning to languish on the vine :)_


	13. Like It Was And How It Could Be

**Author's Note**: For this chapter I was planning on putting this opening scene up, along with some of the baby stuff I'd mentioned doing. But then as this came together I realized it really was a 'cheese stands alone' type moment. So I decided to put it up as a single chapter. It's not quite as lengthy as perhaps you were getting used to, it's still a rodent of unusual size :)

And though my A/N at the end is epic :) please make sure to read just the beginning of it.

* * *

_Week 16 _

_**Sunday**_

**Like It Was . . . and How It Could Be**

Emily's eyes popped open as she heard the distinctive sound of somebody banging on her front door.

The door was metal so the clang was unmistakable.

Hotch had already turned on the lamp, and was halfway out of bed . . . with gun in hand . . . before she'd even sat up. Her eyes took a second to adjust, but she could see from the alarm clock that it was after two.

_Who the hell would be pounding on her door at this hour?!_

Then suddenly she thought of one person who might do that. Her eyes widened in fear as they snapped up to Hotch's.

"Chris?"

She hadn't heard from him since that last awful fight. But he was such an asshole that she wouldn't put it past him to decide to get drunk and show up in the middle of the night just to start screaming at her about the baby again.

About killing it.

Feeling a stab of fear . . . though she didn't yet know if that fear was unfounded . . . her hand automatically went down to cover her belly protectively. That was as she too jumped out of bed and went over to get her own gun off the dresser.

Seeing that Emily was about to follow him out, Hotch turned back. His brow was dark as he shook his head at her.

"No, you wait up here."

If this was her ex-boyfriend at the door, Hotch didn't want her anywhere near an armed confrontation between the two of them.

Emily's jaw began to twitch as she followed him over to the doorway. After shooting him an angry glance, she started checking her weapon.

"I can take care of _myself_ Aaron!" she whispered harshly.

What the hell?! She wasn't some a helpless female! And if this prick was at her door, and he thought he _was_ going to hurt her baby . . . she checked her safety . . . well then, she'd be happy to put a few bullets in his crotch.

That should make her opinion on this matter ABUNDANTLY clear!

Not wanting to pick a fight at this, of all times, Hotch took a deep breath to keep his tone in check. Then he responded as evenly as possible.

"I know that you are more than capable of taking care of yourself Emily," he whispered back, "your capability isn't at issue. The _issue_ is that you're PREGNANT! And that means that you're much more vulnerable to a hit in your center mass than you were before." He gave her a hard look, "and if it is that asshole showing up at your house in the middle of the night, I'm VERY concerned about his intentions. So until we're sure that there's no immediate danger I . . ." he let out his breath as his tone softened, "I would appreciate it, if you would _please,_" he reached over to squeeze her fingers, "just wait up here and let me check it out first."

Christ. He'd almost _ordered_ her to stay in the bedroom. Not out of any sense of chauvinism, but just out of habit of being in charge in situations like this. But thank God he'd caught himself. Because he could see from the look on her face as she checked her pistol, that order probably would have been the death knell for their relationship.

They were off duty, it was her house, and she was most definitely not his "little woman." She could break a man's face about as quickly and efficiently as he could.

Probably more so with the kickboxing.

So he had no reason to leave her upstairs beyond purely selfish motivations. Basically he was worried sick that something could happen to her and the baby, and he wouldn't be quick enough to stop it.

It was his capability that he was concerned about, not hers.

Emily stared at Hotch for a second, considering his words . . . and his tone . . . and then her expression softened.

"Okay," she whispered, "you make a good argument about being cautious. But I'm still only staying up here because you asked nicely." Then she planted a quick kiss on his lips.

"Just be careful."

They were about as far off duty as they could be right now, and if he had tried to order her to do anything then she would have known that the other shoe had finally dropped.

Because if he didn't see her now . . . in a situation like this . . . as an equal partner and not a subordinate agent, then he never would. And Hotch was perhaps the first man that she'd ever truly loved. So if she'd had to find out tonight . . . when things had been going so well . . . that they really had no future at all, that would have been a devastating realization.

They had just passed another test.

One neither of them had known they were taking.

The pounding began again as Hotch hurried towards the stairs. Emily sent up a silent prayer that it wasn't Chris. A prayer that Hotch wasn't about to go have a confrontation with her douchebag ex-boyfriend.

And though Emily knew that Hotch wanted her to stay in her room, she couldn't hear anything from in there. All she knew was that the pounding had stopped again. But she didn't hear any voices.

Raised or otherwise.

So she slowly inching her way out of the bedroom and down the hall. Then stopped at the landing . . . though a few feet back from railing . . . tilting her head as she listened intently.

Still nothing.

That's when she started to get worried that maybe something had happened. Maybe it _was_ Chris and maybe somehow he'd gotten the drop on Hotch.

Unlikely but not impossible.

Her worry meter now kicking up another notch, Emily was just about to start down to check things out for herself when Hotch suddenly appeared at the bottom of the staircase.

Christ . . . she put her hand to her chest . . . give a girl a heart attack why don't you?!

Taking the steps two at a time, Hotch jogged back up to Emily. Though he wasn't pleased to see her out of her room, he was still grateful that she'd at least stayed upstairs.

Even if his concern had been for nothing.

He could see the mixture of confusion and rising panic on her face as she asked worriedly, "is it Chris? Do we need to call the police?"

Though she and Hotch were certainly capable of apprehending suspects out in the world, she really did not wish for either of them to become participants in a domestic dispute.

Somebody . . . scratch that . . . _Chris_ . . . could get killed. Not that she was philosophically opposed to that outcome. Not at all. Not since he'd grabbed her arm and screamed at her to kill the baby. At that moment she'd seen what kind of a man he really was.

But a violent incident with him in her home would lead to a hell of a lot of questions. And more importantly . . . a microscope on her personal life. Her life and her life with Hotch.

That was something that they could not have. Not now anyway.

Already shaking his head before she'd finished the question, Hotch stopped in front of her and whispered back, "no, we don't need the police. It's not Chris," he paused, "it's Morgan."

Emily's eyes popped in surprise.

"MORGAN!?"

At Hotch's wince, she realized how loudly that had come out so she lowered her voice as she responded incredulously.

"He's here _now_? At two in the morning?"

It had been four days since that awful scene and neither she nor Hotch had heard a word from Derek. To cover Morgan's sudden absence from work, at the Thursday briefing Hotch had told the others that Derek was taking some vacation time that he was about to lose.

Fortunately nobody else knew what had happened Wednesday night. So given that the rest of them didn't understand the magnitude of the rift now between Emily and Morgan, nobody had looked askance at that announcement except for Rossi. But all Emily had to do was give him a look and he'd patted her hand and smoothly moved on, asking JJ what was on the agenda.

Even if the others hadn't realized at the briefing the true reason for Derek's absence, the last couple days of the week were amazingly even more upsetting than they had been before he left.

In part because Emily got depressed every time she looked over at his empty desk. His absence was her fault. And Reid seemed to sense how down she was so he wasn't even trying to make chit chat anymore.

It was a weird bubble . . . a cone of silence . . . covering their little corner of the bull pen.

And Garcia . . . Jesus Christ Garcia . . . she definitely seemed to have figured out that whatever the reason for Morgan's sudden disappearance, it had to do with Emily. So Emily was now getting Penelope's version of the silent treatment. In that all of her responses to requests for information, or simple hellos and goodbyes, were clipped and professional.

Though her loyalty to Derek was admirable, and Emily loved Garcia dearly as a friend, she really wanted to tell her to stop riding her ass. The woman clearly didn't have a clue about exactly what had gone on between her and Derek, so Garcia wasn't in a place to be making judgments about who the bad guys were here.

In reality there were no bad guys. Just a really unfortunate series of misunderstandings. And the last thing Emily wanted to deal with was another falling out with a member of the team.

Her circle of friends was going to dwindle pretty quickly if this kept up.

But she knew that she couldn't control anybody's feelings . . . or their loyalties.

So on Friday afternoon . . . after receiving another lengthy evil eye from Garcia while they were alone in the break room . . . Emily saw that was another friendship that was starting to slip away from her.

And maybe a heart to heart could have fixed that. But she sure as hell wasn't about to get into any of their business with Garcia. It was their business, not hers. And as close as Derek and Penelope were, Emily knew that there was no WAY he'd ever tell her the abject humiliation he'd suffered Wednesday night. And even if their relationship were public knowledge, certainly neither Emily nor Hotch would ever repeat what had happened to anyone else on the team regardless.

That would be a betrayal of Derek's trust. Actually in his mind, it probably would have been ANOTHER betrayal.

So with the reality of their situation simply not up for discussion, Emily had come to the sad conclusion that her relationship with not one, but now TWO of her closest friends was seriously damaged. Perhaps permanently damaged.

At that point she'd just started looking forward to maternity leave.

Maybe everyone would have forgiven her by the time she returned.

But now here was Morgan pounding at her door in the middle of the night. She'd been dreading their first encounter tomorrow. Given that he'd preempted that by showing up here, apparently he was too.

After taking Emily's hand, Hotch brought her two steps back from the staircase, hoping their voices wouldn't carry as he whispered.

"I think he might have been drinking a little bit but he's not drunk. And he wants to talk to you," grimacing slightly Hotch scrubbed his hand across his forehead, "what do you want to do?"

As much as he cared about Morgan personally, Hotch had almost torn him a new one for showing up in the middle of the night and scaring the hell out of Emily. That wasn't good for her or Baby. But after everything that had happened last week Hotch had caught himself just before he opened his mouth.

No matter how pissed off he was, he just didn't have the heart to give the poor guy any more crap.

Frantically chewing on her lip Emily stared at Hotch for a moment before she answered, "I guess I should go talk to him, right?"

Even if he was here to read her the riot act, better to do it now than tomorrow. And really, how could she turn him away? If he had something he needed to say to her then she needed to let him say it.

No matter how much it hurt.

Hotch gave her a sad smile.

"I think you should sweetheart. And . . ." he rolled his eyes slightly, "though I wish he'd come at a more reasonable hour, it is probably best that you two get to talk before he goes back to work."

She nodded, "right."

That was the key point here . . . just getting it over with now before they had an audience tomorrow.

Hotch gave her a quick kiss and a hug as she passed him her gun. Then he continued down the hall to her bedroom. He placed both of their weapons back on his nightstand before going over to put the television on low.

At this time of night, voices carried. And Hotch really didn't want to purposely eavesdrop. It was hard enough for Derek having their relationship shoved in his face. He should have a few minutes of privacy with Emily to say what he needed to say.

Emily eyed the door Hotch walked through for a moment before she took a breath and headed off to have what she was sure was going to be an excruciating conversation.

When she got to the bottom of the staircase, Emily took note of the fact that she should have grabbed her robe before she came down. Per usual for her sleepwear now she was only wearing a tank top and a pair of Hotch's boxers. And said boxers slid slightly down her hips because even with the baby bump, they were still a little too big for her.

Not exactly suitable attire to greet guests. Certainly not ones you'd recently discovered had romantic feelings for you.

So she grabbed a blanket off the basket by the window seat, pulling it around her shoulders and wrapping it around her body before she walked around the corner.

Morgan was standing by the door, staring at the carpet runner in the hallway.

"Derek," her voice was a whisper.

Morgan slowly dragged his eyes up, looking at her feet, her calves, her thighs, the blanket that covered her upper body, and then finally his perusal stopped at her face. He saw the worry and tension there and suddenly he remembered that she was pregnant. She was pregnant and he'd just pounded on her door, dragging her out of bed at two in the morning.

Shit.

Her pregnancy was a new state of being for him and he hadn't adjusted to it yet.

Wincing slightly, he took a step forward, "I'm sorry Em, I shouldn't have woken you up in the middle of the night. I forgot you were . . . uh," he gestured towards her midsection, "pregnant."

She shook her head.

"It's okay, we went to bed early."

Seeing Morgan wince again, this time for a different reason, Emily instantly felt guilty for reminding him of the intimacies of her relationship with Hotch.

Even if it was unintentional, it was still cruel to throw those things in his face. But she couldn't bring herself to apologize for that one. That would imply that she'd done something wrong. That she should be ashamed of being with Hotch. And she certainly felt no shame at all about her feelings for the man waiting patiently upstairs for her to return to their bed.

So she moved past the awkwardness of the moment . . . she had plenty of experience doing that lately . . . and walked over to him. Though she made sure to stop a few feet back just in case Derek didn't want her in his space. Then she gave him a little smile.

"The hour doesn't matter. I'm just glad you came over."

Transfixed for a moment by her eyes . . . they were so pretty even without any mascara . . . Derek finally nodded, "uh, well I'm starting back to work tomorrow and I didn't want to leave things the way they were on Wednesday," he tipped his head, "and beyond that, things have been weird between us for months and I don't want that to continue," he sighed, "though I can't promise we'll ever go back to like it was, I just thought that we should air things out so that we can go on from there."

Next to the horror show of last Wednesday, this was about the shittiest conversation he'd ever had to have with anyone that didn't involve a murder confession.

But there was no way around it.

Not unless he was going to put in for an immediate transfer, and that wasn't happening. That would be the coward's way out. And he might have been a blind fool, but he was not a coward. He was a grown man who needed to deal with the new world order.

The one that didn't include him and Emily living happily ever after like he'd planned.

And those plans for the future had been pretty clear in his mind. A wedding, a house, kids, first days of school, Christmas mornings, summer vacations at ridiculous theme parks. All of that still haunted him.

Echoes of a happy family that never was.

So . . . though he had no intention of fleeing from the unit now with his tail between his legs . . . he also knew that it was entirely possible that he might not be able to deal with this new situation long term.

He might not be able to ever get back to a normal relationship with her.

It was going to be doubly hard knowing that she'd moved on with the man who gave him his orders in the field. A man that he'd always admired before . . . and now he simply envied.

The fact was, Morgan knew that he still needed to find a way to get back to trusting his life to that man . . . and this woman . . . when they were on the job. Because out in their fucked up twisted world, they only had each other to depend on. But regaining that trust was going to be a little hard to do when he was still filled with this crushing sense of loss.

They'd found the life that he'd wanted.

But hopefully his sadness and envy would start to fade soon. Because if it didn't, well, maybe he would have to put in for a transfer down the road. That was a measure of last resort though.

Plan Z.

Right now he was only on Plan B . . . get his heart back from the woman who had inadvertently stolen it from him.

And as he moved forward on Plan B, he watched as Emily nodded her head slowly before saying, "that was my hope to," and then she put her hand out to him.

"Please, come sit down and we can talk."

As Emily saw Derek staring at her outstretched hand, she suddenly realized how insensitive she was being and pulled it back.

"I'm sorry . . . I . . . I'm sorry," she gave him a sad smile, "I'm just used to things being a certain way," her eyes began to sting as her gaze dropped, "but I guess they won't be that way anymore."

God this sucked.

Swallowing hard, Morgan stared at her for a moment, and seeing the distress on her face he tried to think of something to say.

"No," he swallowed, "no, I'm sorry but they won't be that way anymore."

Seeing the tear roll down her face, he quickly added.

"But I hope eventually maybe we'll . . . um . . . uh . . ."

Though he wanted to say that they could be friends again, he didn't really know that they could be. Honestly he wasn't even sure if that's what he wanted. His feelings for her were too strong, too complicated.

Too messy.

It might simply be too hard to spend time with her.

But he saw no reason to bring that up now. Now was the time to just clean out these wounds so they could begin to heal. Then he'd regroup and see where they were. So to that end, he started again.

"I don't hate you Emily," he paused for a moment before huffing humorlessly, "quite the opposite actually."

The joke . . . very much at his expense . . . was intended to put her at ease. But as her gaze slowly came back up, he saw that she was giving him a worried look. And he could see then that he'd just taken the wrong approach entirely. Instead of putting her at ease, he had made her uncomfortable.

She thought he was making another pitch.

And she'd already made her feelings quite clear. She didn't wish to pursue a relationship with him because she was already in a relationship with the man who had answered her door with his Glock at two in the morning.

Yeah, that was a little awkward. It hadn't occurred to Derek that Hotch would be here.

Again, the new world order hadn't sunk in yet.

But Morgan had at least accepted it as far as understanding that any romantic future with Emily had faded away.

So he quickly shook his head before she got the wrong idea.

"Don't worry, I'm not here to make any . . . uh . . . declarations. I understand that you and Hotch are . . . committed and uh, that is to say, I'm not," he swallowed, "well I don't want to talk about that. I get it. So let's just leave it at that and know that I won't be," he rolled his eyes as he looked away in embarrassment, "pursuing you or anything."

Jesus Christ was there an empty grave maybe he could jump into right now!? He was two minutes into this conversation and it was already excruciating. He just wanted to leave her place and go get smashed, but they were nowhere near done talking yet.

Emily gave him a tight, somewhat awkward smile.

"Okay. I didn't want to be . . . um, rude, so . . . uh good. I'm glad you err, uh . . . understand."

Hearing that last sentence come out of her mouth, Emily was almost amazed to believe that she'd actually graduated from college.

This was almost as painful as Wednesday.

But for just a moment she'd feared that maybe he'd come here to try to win her over. And as much as she didn't want to hurt him again, she couldn't let him think for even an instant that a future between them was possible. Even if her feelings for Morgan weren't simply fraternal . . . she was in love with Hotch. And that was the long and the short of her feelings on the subject of additional suitors.

She didn't want any.

So now that they'd cleared that up, Emily sent up a silent prayer that maybe the rest of this conversation wouldn't be quite so awkward. And then she snorted humorlessly to herself . . . fat chance.

Realizing nothing more was being accomplished by standing in the middle of the hall, Emily turned and walked down to the living room. She was relieved when she heard Derek's boots following her along the hardwood floor.

When they got to the couch they both paused for a moment, looking between the sofa and the end chairs. Choice of seating in her own home had never seemed so important to Emily. But she wanted to wait to see what Derek would do before she decided what she would do.

After he sat down on the right side of the couch, close to the cushion, she walked around the coffee table so she could sit down in the middle. Though she technically chose the seat right next to him, she consciously angled herself slightly to the left so that he wouldn't feel crowded by her presence.

A moment after she sat down Emily pulled her legs up in front of her, wrapping her arms tightly around her calves. She knew it was a classically defensive posture, but that couldn't be helped. It was the way she was feeling at the moment.

It was how you always felt when you screwed up and then were called on the carpet to explain yourself.

The silence stretched out and then finally Emily broke it with a whisper as she stared down at her knees.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I lied. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before about the baby. I'm sorry that you found out about my relationship with Hotch the way that you did," she paused as her voice got a little hoarse, "and I'm sorry that I hurt you . . . I'm so sorry about that Derek."

There . . . she cleared her throat . . . she had at least gotten out the apology. Maybe the rest wouldn't be so hard.

Morgan rubbed his hand along his pants, grateful that he'd gone out for a couple of shots before he came over. He wasn't drunk, not even close, but he did at least have some bottle courage, and that's why he'd come.

There was a question he wanted an answer to before he went back to work. Before he went back to sitting across from her for nine hours a day. And he didn't know if stone cold sober he'd have the balls to ask what he wanted to ask.

So he took a moment to process her apology. But then he realized there were no answers it. Just apologies. Right now he wasn't looking for apologies, he just wanted the whys that precipitated the need for them.

So he started with the biggest why of all.

"Why did you lie to me about being pregnant?"

He turned to look her in the eye.

"That's what I don't understand. Until these past couple months I'd always thought we were really close, and then you started," feeling the pain begin to well up, he swallowed, "pulling away from me and I couldn't figure out why. And honestly I still don't know why. Hotch told me that you two . . ."

He winced slightly as he suddenly pictured them together. Though the days had passed, he still wasn't even close to being okay about that yet. So he started again.

"Well that you two didn't . . . get together until after you found out you were pregnant," he gave her a hurt look as his voice got hoarse, "so why didn't you come to me first?"

That's what he didn't understand. That's what hurt so much. Why didn't she tell him?

Yeah, he got the boss thing. That Hotch had to know for work. But beyond that it was all a cop out. Because she still could have told him too. She still could have told him FIRST.

If she'd really cared about him . . . if she'd trusted him . . . then she would have come to him. Or at least that's how he saw it in his mind.

Now he needed to see how she saw it in hers.

Emily's eyes fell away for a moment.

This part was going to be hard. This part was going to hurt him. But of course . . . she tightened the blanket around her shoulders . . . she had already hurt him.

Now she was just going to be twisting that knife around a little bit more before she hopefully pulled it out completely.

She looked up at him and took a breath.

"What I'm about to say isn't intended to make you feel worse than you already do. And," she gave him a sad smile, "it most definitely is not intended to cause any further strain between us, but," she bit her lip as she looked over with concern, "I assume that you want the truth?"

As hard as it was, this was probably a conversation long overdue. Maybe if she'd said something to him before, then things wouldn't have taken the turn that they had.

As he started to get a sinking feeling in his stomach, Derek nodded slowly.

"Yes, of course I want the truth."

Christ, what the hell had he done? Because from her words it was clear that he had . . . as he'd first feared when she'd begun to pull away . . . done something that had upset her.

And he hadn't even realized it.

Emily rubbed her hands up and down her bare calves. Finally she willed herself to look over at him . . . but she couldn't make eye contact.

She didn't want to see the additional hurt she'd be putting there. But she was just putting off the inevitable. So finally she started talking. Speaking in soft tones . . . hoping that would somehow make it better.

"I didn't tell you about the baby before, because I was afraid that we'd get into a fight. That you'd make a comment about my decision to go out with Chris initially, and that was something that I . . ." her eyes started to water as she finally summoned up her courage to turn and look at him, "well, I simply couldn't deal with that at the time. I needed to talk to somebody who was just going to be supportive." Her teeth sunk into her lip before she added quietly.

"And not judge me."

Morgan stared back at her for a moment . . . she could see that his eyes were getting red . . . and then he asked quietly.

"I made you feel that way? That I was judging you?"

A tear ran down her face as she nodded back.

"Yes, and I know that you didn't mean to, mostly I think you were just being over protective. But I always feel like I have to justify my decisions to you Morgan," her voice got husky, "and this is my life. And I shouldn't have to justify myself to anyone."

There . . . she'd said it. And dear God she hoped it hadn't sounded as terribly mean in his head, as it had in hers.

Morgan winced at Emily's words before his gazed dropped to his lap.

Pushing aside that sting of rebuke, he started thinking back on all of the conversations they'd had over the past few years. All the times he'd told her he didn't like her boyfriends . . . and all the times she'd bristled at his comments.

The arguments they'd had as a result.

His stomach churned . . . it was jealousy. Pure and simple.

Jealousy.

It was after he'd started to realize he had feelings for her that he became more critical of the men that she was seeing. Not that he hadn't made a choice comment here or there in the past . . . she had dated some real winners. But it wasn't until he'd realized that he wanted her for himself that he started to hate _all_ of the other men that came into her life.

That's when he'd started to fear that one of them would steal her away from him. Those stupid fucking personnel rules that he'd followed had prevented him from saying anything to her about his own feelings. But he thought if he could just keep her from finding somebody else that they could still kind of be together.

That he wouldn't lose her.

The irony of that was so bitter now that he didn't know if he should laugh or cry. Because what he'd done then was go out of his way to vocally point out every flaw in every man with whom she'd so much as had coffee. Hell, he hadn't even MET all of them and he still had an opinion that he felt the need to share with her!

But given what she'd just said, now he could see how incredibly inappropriate that was to impose his views on her that way. Who was he to dictate how she should live her life? Like he was doing such a bang up job with his own that he was in any position to be dolling out unsolicited advice? Please.

For Christ's sake he was pushing forty and he still just had one meaningless relationship after another. Of course that was in part because he'd thought maybe Emily was the one.

It turns out she was . . . for Hotch.

And suddenly Derek realized that it was his own fault that he'd lost her. If he hadn't driven her away with his stupid fucking childish behavior then maybe she wouldn't have felt the need to hide the baby from him.

Hell, there was no MAYBE about it! She'd just flat out TOLD him that!

As his heart took another pounding he bit back a moan and stared down at her coffee table for a moment. His eyes focused in on the two sets of credentials sitting there.

One was Emily's . . . and one was Hotch's.

Derek's eyes were watery as he looked back over at her, "I'm sorry Em. I never meant to make you feel that way. It's your life. They're your decisions. You shouldn't have to listen to other people's opinions about your choices. I certainly wouldn't appreciate it if someone did that to me," he swallowed over the lump in his throat as he looked at her sadly, "I just wish you'd said something before. If only I'd realized . . ."

His voice faded away.

It didn't matter now. He hadn't realized. She hadn't told him and he hadn't realized. What was done was done.

Emily started to cry, "I wish I'd said something too. I just . . . I thought . . ." she wiped her hand across her face, "well I don't know what I thought. I guess that it wouldn't make a difference maybe. That it was just the way things were and that if I brought it up then I'd just be causing a real rift in our friendship," with a bitter laugh she wiped her hand across her face again, "well," a sob broke free, "so much for that."

God, she'd really hoped to get through this conversation without a complete breakdown. She used to cry on Morgan's shoulder, back in the old days, but now she didn't really feel comfortable crying in front of anyone but Hotch. And besides, God knows if Morgan would appreciate having to put up with her tears right now.

So for his sake more than her own, she tried desperately to stop crying.

As much as he tried to not let Emily's sobbing affect him, it was impossible for Morgan to turn off his feelings for her. So as she sucked in a ragged breath, he tentatively reached over and put his arm around her shoulders.

It took only a moment for Emily to shift her weight and lean into his side. If he was willing to pretend for a few seconds that this was okay, then she would too.

So she cried on his shoulder for everything that they'd lost. That they'd both been too stupid to see was slipping away from them. It was never just the one thing that ruined a relationship. It was always a series of events. A pattern that you don't see until it's too late.

And now it was too late.

They couldn't go back. That much was clear. Things could never go back to what they were before.

Her knees brushed against his thigh as she breathed in his aftershave and patted his stomach. All the while knowing that this was probably the last time she'd ever be allowed this close to him again. He'd been her protector. Her partner.

Her best friend.

But now . . . all of those titles were lost. Now she didn't know what they were. She just wished that they could go back.

Go back to like it was before.

It was hell for Morgan to touch her . . . to hold her . . . and know that she'd never be his. But it would have been worse to know that it was within his power to offer her some comfort, and to still let her suffer.

No matter what had happened between them, he would never wish this misery on her.

The deterioration of their friendship was equally their burden to share. Put in her position he could see how her resentment would have built. That the damage to their relationship hadn't started with her distance and lies, it had started with his jealousy.

They'd hurt each other equally.

As her tears began to taper off, he heard her sniffle against his chest and then ask in a watery voice, "do you think we can be friends again?"

He kissed the top of her head before whispering, "no . . . no I don't. Not like before," he leaned back slightly to look down at her, "but I don't want to leave the unit Emily."

Her eyes widened in horror.

"I don't want that either!"

When did that become an option?!

His teeth sunk into his lip as he stared at her for a moment.

"Then I guess we'll have to try to figure something out. But," he looked at her sadly, "we can't talk about anything personal. I mean obviously you know . . . romantic stuff is out, but," his eyes dropped down to her stomach as his voice got husky, "I know the baby is a big deal. And I'm happy for you, I am. I know this is something you've wanted for a while. But, could you just give me a little time on that one?"

Even if it wasn't Hotch's baby, his boss' commitment to take care of both of them was just another reminder of the life he would never have with her.

Emily reached up to pat Derek's cheek. Then she gave him a sad smile.

"Of course. I will warn you though that I'll probably be showing soon. In a few weeks I won't be able to hide this anymore. And that's when I'll have to tell the rest of the team. Then . . . well . . ."

She left the rest unsaid. It was clear from the look on his face that he knew as well as she did that her pregnancy was going to be a regular topic of conversation that would probably get shoved into his face by everyone BUT her and Hotch.

"Yeah," he nodded, "I know, but hopefully by then things will be a little better."

That was probably a pipe dream. But at least in a few weeks he'd know if he could stay in the unit with them building a happy family. In a few weeks he'd know for sure if he needed a transfer.

But again, she didn't need to know that now. And speaking of now, now that she'd pulled herself back together he realized that his arm was still around her.

The moment was over. They were back to the new reality where they didn't do these things anymore.

So he kissed the top of her head one last time before he pulled his arm back, sliding his fingers through her hair as he pulled away.

That was probably the last time he'd ever do that.

Feeling him pull back, Emily sat up, wiping her hands across her face. As he stood, she did too.

There was nothing more to say.

So she tightened her blanket around her shoulders and with a sniffle, followed him down the hall to the door. Once he was there, he stopped, turning back to look at her.

"I'm sorry."

His voice was broken.

And feeling her eyes begin to fill again, she nodded back.

"Me too," and then she did something that she hoped would make him feel better. She leaned up on her tiptoes and pressed a light kiss to his lips.

When she leaned back, she gave him a watery smile and reached up to pat his cheek.

"I'll miss you."

Though she knew that she'd be seeing him in six hours, this was really the end of things.

Morgan's fingers came up to touch his lips, before he nodded back.

"Yeah," his voice cracked, "I'll miss you too."

Feeling his emotions then getting the better of him, Derek knew it was time to go.

So he turned away and opened the door, right before he walked out he whispered, "be happy Em." And then he stepped over the threshold, pulling the door shut behind him.

The tears began to run down Emily's face again as she reached up to turn the deadbolt. Then she turned and slowly walked back down the hall and headed up the stairs to her room.

As Emily walked in, Hotch clicked off the television and turned to her. They were both quiet for a moment and then he asked softly, "are you okay sweetheart?"

She looked terrible.

Emily shook her head as she sniffled again, "no."

Biting his lip in sympathy, Hotch opened up his arms. She went over and climbed into his lap. And as he pulled her into his embrace, she whispered against his neck, "I love you."

After everything that had just happened with Derek, she realized that needed to be said. She'd lost one man in her life because of the relationship with the other.

The other should at least know how she felt.

Feeling a burst of joy, Hotch's eyes crinkled as he kissed her temple.

"I love you too sweetheart," he murmured back with a gentle rub to her stomach, "you and Baby."

There . . . he got that one out. And he was pretty sure that she'd be okay with it. That she wouldn't think his affection for her child was inappropriate.

Emily leaned back with a faint, watery, smile . . . she was feeling her sadness dampened at his words.

His commitment to her and her baby was clear.

She'd made the right choice. Hotch would be a good partner and . . . if she let him . . . he would be a good father. Yeah, she was pretty sure that she was going to let him have that role if he wanted it.

She leaned up to kiss him

And as the kiss began to deepen, Hotch lay her down on the bed, sliding his hand between them to push the boxers down her hips. Feeling his fingers begin swirling in a rhythmic pattern, she broke off their kiss with a gasp.

"I thought we had to wait another week."

There was no way that he'd be so cruel as to do this to her, and then still tell her that they couldn't make love for another nine days.

Hotch smiled at the flush in her cheeks and the wrinkle of confusion on her nose.

"I think we've waited long enough."

It wasn't just that she was sad and he wanted to make her feel better. That was part of it. But mostly it was because she said I love you first.

She was the one with all the fears. All the worries that that they couldn't make this work.

Well . . . he went back to kissing her as he rubbed slow circles with his thumb . . . they were making this work just fine. And if making love to her was the best way to show her that . . . he was definitely willing to take one for the team.

As she began to climax for the first time, for that moment Emily forgot completely about Morgan, about her sadness and grief over the end of that relationship. Because in that moment with Hotch, she suddenly saw spinning out before her all of the possibilities in this relationship.

A truly happy life.

Something that she never thought she would have. Something that she never thought she was entitled to. But as Hotch began to pull off her tank top, she could see it with perfect clarity.

And a few minutes later . . . when he slipped inside of her . . . she cried.

They were the first happy tears of the night. And when he began to move, she pictured their future again.

This time in vibrant Technicolor.

Her child being raised as Aaron's. His son spending weekends with them. Building a family with first steps and first days of school, Christmas mornings, family dinners . . . family vacations.

All of the wonderful, normal things that she'd always wanted.

She moaned as he shifted, hitting just the right spot . . . those things could be hers now. A life . . . her breath began to quicken . . . a life always with him.

For awhile she had no thoughts . . . just bliss. A wave building slowly, driven by all of the wonderful things Aaron was doing to her body.

This was making love. Apparently before all she'd ever had was sex. Sex was good . . . but this . . . her breath caught as they hit the wall together . . . this was SOOO much better!

And when it was done, and he was holding her in his arms, murmuring, "I love you so much," in her ear . . . the sadness from her conversation with Morgan tried to come back to her.

But she pushed it away.

This was her moment . . . her hand covered Hotch's where it was resting on her stomach . . . this was her man. And she was going to enjoy this moment . . . this life . . . with him.

She rolled over in his arms, pressing her lips to his before she murmured.

"You make me so happy."

Hotch's eyes crinkled as he kissed her back.

"I love you too."

* * *

_A/N 2: Is it just me, is it just my wishful thinking that I could have some sense of completion, or does this not feel like it could be a concluding chapter? Like the story's wrapped all of its dangling plot points? Like the Epiphanies chapter of Girl when it just "seemed" over. I'd LOVE to wrap this right here and then just go forward with a companion story continuing on through her pregnancy and the birth. What do you think? Would anybody burn me in effigy if I did that? That way, we'd all have some resolution here now and then I could start up the next story once I wrapped something else. Then I could devote the proper time to it. _

_You guys think about it, let me know what you want to do. Seriously, I'll go with majority rules here. Because I don't to upset like my entire viewing audience by simply shutting down a story at a point where you guys weren't expecting it. Before you vote, try to see my point though, at his moment, all of our threads are snipped off. They've gotten together, fallen in love, said the words, actually had sex and though there's still living left to do, they are all set up for the happily ever after. Plus, the Morgan subplot has also been addressed, they've reached resolution as well. As much as they can at this point. So we could stop here and then pick up a little later. Remember, we'll be picking up later anyway. But this way it would be on purpose as opposed to just me not having time to write more for another month. You'd have some closure. _

_I do promise though I really would write the other half of her pregnancy. I already have chapters done but they're related to other plot developments that we haven't really reached yet. If we stop now then maybe I could slowly finish that story up in my "free time" and then when I start posting again it will already have the ending written and Baby will be born much faster. That's my new rule, I can't start any new stories until I basically have the beginning to the end all sketched out. That way we don't get to this point with 6 or 7 stories hanging. See, if it's an ongoing story then I feel obligated to post as soon as a chapter's done. I can never get ahead because it's more pressure to put something up. If I'm just working on it at my leisure sometimes it comes more quickly. _

_But you let me know! Then you can yell at each other if you're not happy with the final vote :)_

_Okay, so back to the chapter as is. I SOOO was not planning on closing with them making love. I was planning just closing on the Morgan scene and her going up to her room (not so much closure there). But as I was rereading it, the whole thing was just really sad. And I've been writing that horror story and there's lots of sadness in there so it was a little depressing to end this one on a weepy note. I have Girl for fluffier bits, but I didn't want to work on fluff either. With the demise of Emily and Morgan's relationship, such as it was, I was working in a "realistic" palette. Realistically, I thought this was a moment where Hotch would come around and see that the time was right. Also, I'd needed to include this event soon anyway. Hotch wasn't going to push it past two weeks. I thought this way it's done, and now it's not something between them. _

_That was also a good way of working in her blissful thoughts about a happy family juxtaposed against the sadness you felt (hopefully) of almost the same world painted in Morgan's head. I thought that worked well. And I couldn't really get her to that place emotionally without finding a way to move away from her sadness for a bit. Having sex with Hotch seemed a sure fire way to pep her up :)_

_Even if we don't wrap here, I'm not sure if we'll get another update on Mirror this month. Unlike Girl, this one is not all sketched out with draft chapters so it's not just a matter of polishing things up. I actually have to think up plot points, write them and THEN, polish them up. That takes a little time. Especially when I'm juggling like a mad woman over here trying to keep everyone happy with updates on whichever their personal favorite story is :) I'm trying guys! Just bear with me, they'll all get to the finish line eventually :) It just depends on where my head is, what my mood is, on what story points come to me. You know they're all completely different worlds and sometimes my brain just refuses to play in the one I want it to. And nobody's more irritated than I am if the only thing that will come is an entirely NEW story! _

_I've got another damn mega story related to season 5 pushing against my cranium and I refuse to write a word of it until I wrap at least one of the relationship stories I'm already juggling. So once the horror story is done, I'm going to focus on getting at least Horses wrapped. And Mirror too, if we're still rolling. Girl's going to run into the new year no matter how hard I try to keep going with regular updates. There are still at least 40 chapters left. So I can promise, come the new year, even if all of these multi chapter pieces are winding down, I will have something new in the mix. And I am trying to get back to Chances, that's just one of those worlds that my brain won't play in no matter how hard I try. Sorry :( _

_So please remember to vote and I'll post the final tally on my profile page. That way you'll know if this is the end for now. If you vote to shut it down, feel free to suggest a name for the next segment. Something that will go with Mirror, Mirror. I do so hate naming things! Because if you end up hating it, you're still stuck with it._


	14. Here's a Pregnant Pause

**Author's Note:** So against most parts of my better judgment, I decided to open it up again. And trying to move along a little bit, (without having to do a major recap of a bunch of life developments), we're only jumping ahead about two weeks after we last left them with all of the Morgan drama. So though that's not totally in the past, there is a little bit of distance. It's not a forefront thought on their minds right now. Especially in this chapter, where they spend their time focused pretty much entirely on Baby's eventual arrival.

And please remember, this is not Girl'verse Emily. This is a world where Emily is less self-assured because of her crappy history. So her thoughts here, though they wouldn't perhaps go with my other Emilys, do go with this one.

Also, there is reference here to an antiquated establishment called the 'video store' :) Remember this is 2008.

* * *

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* * *

_Week 18_

**Here's a Pregnant Pause**

"Ms. Prentiss, we're ready for you now."

Emily's head jerked up when she heard the technician calling her name.

And though she dropped the copy of Time magazine that she'd been pretending to read down on the shiny metal coffee table, she didn't actually respond to the woman's words in any other way. Instead she looked down anxiously at her watch . . . and then her eyes snapped over to the front door again.

But still . . . she bit down on her lip . . . no Hotch.

Damn.

He'd texted her twenty minutes ago to say that he was on his way to the doctor's office, but that was fifteen minutes AFTER he was supposed to have left the Academy. So if that was a message he'd sent just as he'd left, she'd known that they'd be cutting things pretty close on his arrival. Still though . . . she felt a little pang in her chest . . . she really thought that he would make it in time.

Because today was an important day.

They were supposed to do the big ultrasound today. The one that was going to _officially_ confirm that everything was moving along just as planned, that her due date was still on target, and that Baby had all of its stubby little fingers and toes in the proper array and alignment.

And she just didn't want to go in there and do that test without Hotch.

And he knew that.

"Ms. Prentiss," the technician repeated with a slightly tighter smile while pushing the side door open all the way, "is there a problem?"

"I . . . uh . . . uh . . ."

Emily stammered nervously as she looked between the open door she was supposed to walk through, and the closed one that Hotch should be stepping through any minute now.

"Could you um," she flattened her hand protectively over her slightly curved stomach, "could you perhaps take somebody else first?"

Though she could have said that she was waiting for her boyfriend, it would have sounded rather strange. After all, she was on the cusp of her second trimester, and this was . . . or would be . . . the first appointment that she hadn't attended totally alone.

She'd even left "Father's Name" and "Emergency Contact" blank on the patient intake forms.

And though "Father's Name" was still a black hole . . . hopefully the one where Chris was rotting in for all eternity . . . she really needed to update the Emergency Contact section. Hotch had most definitely taken over that role in her life, and if there was ever (God forbid) a problem with her and Baby, he was the only one that she'd want called.

He was the only one that she wanted period.

And her only reticence about mentioning him now, was that if she told the staff that she was waiting for a previously unseen/heard of boyfriend . . . she and Hotch had only been fully coupled up for a little over two months, so this was really the first appointment that she'd had the opportunity to even bring him _to_ . . . and then he ended up NOT showing up before they finished the visit, she'd look, well . . . pathetic.

Yeah . . . she felt her stomach twisting as Technician Nancy's mouth pursed . . . pathetic would about cover it.

"Uh," Nancy wrinkled her nose slightly as she shook her head, "sorry, but I'm going off in twenty minutes. You're my last patient, and I need to set things up for the doctor."

"Oh," Emily's face fell, "I'm your last . . . oh, uh," her fingers tightened into a fist, "okay, then."

And with that, she reluctantly . . . and with another worrying glance to the closed front entrance . . . climbed to her feet.

'_All right Prentiss,'_ she told herself as her eyes started to sting, _'get the hormones in check. This is NOT on any level, a 'tear worthy' event. Hotch must have gotten held up. These things happen, just deal with it like a grown up.'_

Of course that was all perfectly sound advice. Except the problem was, she didn't WANT to deal with it like a grown up! She dealt with things like a grown up every damn day of the week. That was her job, "CONSTANT GROWN UP!" Right now she just wanted to be sad that her first ever good, sweet, kind significant other, wasn't there with her. That she was going to have to go do this part alone.

Just like she'd done all of the other parts alone.

And that really sucked.

Still though . . . as she walked across the waiting room . . . she tried to slap on something resembling a smile for the young technician who clearly didn't care about her personal issues, and just wanted to get off her shift. But she knew from the look on the girl's face, that the smile was more than a little strained.

But of course that was because it was completely disingenuous.

"Are you okay, Ms. Prentiss?"

And hearing that concern in the younger woman's voice . . . and feeling a sting of embarrassment that her emotional state had become so transparent to even strangers . . . Emily quickly nodded to try to play off her clearly visible, disappointment.

"Oh yeah, I'm fine. I just . . . um," she cleared over the little lump in her throat, "you know, long day."

And with that she reluctantly stepped past the tiny redhead, and thru the open doorway in front of her.

She'd only taken three trudging steps before she heard a breathless, familiar . . . and anxious . . . voice coming from the direction of the receptionist's desk.

"Emily Prentiss? Has she been called yet?"

Emily spun around, a huge grin sliding across her face as she brushed by the startled technician. She shoved the heavy door open again.

"Aaron, I'm here!" She called excitedly through the space, "I just got called."

'_Thank GOD, he made it!'_ she thought while waving him over. Now he'd be there for Baby's test, AND she didn't have to be a big loser who was AGAIN at the doctor's all by herself!

Though really the former was more important than the latter.

Hotch sighed in relief as he took three quick strides over to the door that Emily was holding open for him.

"I'm so sorry I'm late sweetheart," he whispered as he kissed her cheek, "conference call ran long."

He'd known how nervous she was today . . . the tests _always _made her nervous . . . and he'd been screaming in his head at the jackass in Finance that hadn't wrapped up the God damn budget call on time. When they'd finally finished . . . twenty minutes late . . . he'd actually sprinted from his office to his car. As it was he'd just barely resisted throwing the red light on the dashboard as he raced through northern Virginia to make the ultrasound in time.

Actually the only reason that he _hadn't_ thrown up the red light, was because it was, A) a Class A misdemeanor to misuse said red light, and B) he'd lucked out getting off the congested 95 and going over to the side roads instead.

It shaved at least ten minutes off his expected drive. And that landed him at the OBs office _almost_ on time for the appointment that Emily had been wringing her hands about for the last two days.

He would have hated himself if he'd missed it.

When he stepped over the threshold into the restricted area of the doctor's office, Hotch's hand immediately fell to the small of Emily's back. And as he tucked her protectively against his side . . . something he found himself regularly doing now in their private hours . . . he looked down at the small redhead staring at them.

She looked, well . . . his brow rose up slightly in amusement . . . shocked.

"Aaron Hotchner," he added with a tip of his head while guiding Emily a few steps back into the little corridor, "sorry for holding things up."

It was clear that this woman was not expecting him to exist . . . she was blatantly looking him up and down . . . let alone show up for this visit. But of course he knew that this was the first time Emily had brought anyone to an appointment with her, so he figured that 'surprise' was to be expected.

Though . . . he suddenly felt a surge of indignation . . . the 'shock' in the woman's reaction was definitely out of place. After all, this was Emily for Christ's sake! Not an eight hundred pound LEPER! _He_ was the one that had been blessed when she'd chosen to give him the time of day.

It was _not_ the other way around.

And in deference to the implied insult to his girlfriend, he shot the technician a slightly harder look . . . though nowhere near as terrifying as he could have. Her reaction to _that_ was a slight reddening of her cheeks as her eyes dropped for a split second.

Good.

When she looked back up, she gave them both a polite smile. And then she quickly shook her head.

"No problem at all. We were just going in now."

Then she turned and . . . after one more quick glance . . . started walking again.

When the woman began walking, Hotch started guiding Emily along behind her. And then she leaned up to whisper in his ear.

"I haven't mentioned the father, I didn't even put Chris' name on the paperwork, and given my age, I think they've been assuming that Baby came from a turkey baster or something."

If only.

Hotch nodded faintly as he patted Emily's back . . . that made sense.

'Well, whatever their prior perceptions had been,' he thought to himself as they continued down the hall, 'he was pleased to be able to at least give Baby some (alluded to) paternity.'

Even if Baby wasn't technically his, (and he was really starting to view that genealogical connection as a mere technicality) he had every intention of stepping up in the impending dad department. And that meant attending as many of these doctor's visits with Emily as his schedule would allow.

Actually it meant _bending _his schedule, to make sure that they WOULD be allowed.

He knew how important it was to Emily to have somebody else share this part of the experience with her. When she was in that room, she wanted to be like all of the other expectant moms.

Holding the hand of her significant other.

And as far as he was concerned . . . he slid his hand up to rest on the back of her neck . . . that point was now a down deal. Technicality or not . . . and again, if asked, he was saying 'not' . . . she wouldn't be going through anymore of this by herself.

Not as long as he had something to say about it.

So once inside the small exam room, he walked Emily over to the table. And seeing the little lines of tension around her mouth . . . again, even when they were routine, the tests always spiked her blood pressure . . . he made sure to give her a soft smile as his hands dropped to her waist.

And then he surprised her with a lift up to the butcher block paper.

"Thanks," Emily whispered, her fingers coming up to brush along his jaw. And once more seeing the nerves on her face . . . and the worry in her eyes . . . he mouthed the words he knew that she needed to hear.

'_Everything's fine.'_

Then he winked, and she smiled . . . it was still a little tight, but that was okay . . . as her hand fell away from his face.

That free hand immediately grasped his fingers instead.

And while the technician set about moving the equipment and sliding over the little tray of accessories, Hotch set about getting Emily shifted to a more comfortable position back on the table.

Though he would have of course been doing that anyway . . . he looked after her as much as she would allow . . . whatever perceptions that these people had of Emily and her 'situation,' he was going to make damn sure that they were on a 180 by appointment's end.

Because she _wasn't_ alone, and Baby didn't come out of any test tube.

Baby was loved.

Though he had to momentarily push that thought aside when the doctor came into the room. She was looking down at the file in her hands when she said hello to Emily. And when she looked up, she too paused for a second, staring at him in surprise. This time though, he was prepared.

And he had a story that would fix all of the speculation about Emily's 'turkey baster' situation. So he was at his most solicitous and charming when he put his hand out.

"Aaron Hotchner," he smiled and tipped his head, "I've been traveling."

*/*/*/*/*/*

Hotch was lying down on the couch with Emily curled up in front of him. Her head was tucked under his chin.

His arm was draped over her stomach.

They'd arrived home from the doctor's appointment a few hours earlier. After dinner . . . takeout (a treat) of fettuccini alfredo from their favorite Italian restaurant . . . Emily had told Hotch that it was a good evening to do something to celebrate Baby's arrival. He'd assumed that she wanted to research baby names, or pick out colors for the nursery.

But no.

She'd just wanted to cuddle up and watch a movie. But given her stress leading up to the appointment . . . which had of course had gone just as smoothly as he'd expected, Baby was good and still on target for arrival November fourth . . . her desire for simple decompression made sense to him. And from his perspective, it was an excellent excuse to dump the case files for one night. Though the more time that passed with them now together, the less of an excuse he actually needed to make that happen.

If not for the urgency . . . and shear overwhelming VOLUME . . . of their cases, he'd be happy to do nothing more than cuddle up with her every night. And actually, barring genuine emergencies, he had cut back to no more than sixty minutes of work per evening.

Huge progress for him.

And tonight he'd only done ten minutes before she'd walked into the living room with a hopeful smile, a cannoli for the two of them to split (dessert that came with their dinner) and her request. So once he'd flashed her a dimple and nodded his assent, he'd slipped his folders and laptop back into his bag. Then he'd grabbed his bite of the Italian pastry, pressed a quick kiss to her lips . . . which tasted of sweet ricotta . . . and gone out to Blockbuster with a list of new films he knew were on Emily's short list. And as it was only Wednesday . . . traditionally a slow movie night . . . he'd been able to come back with her number one pick.

The newest Jason Bourne.

Fortunately he and Emily had similar taste in movies. And he did like the film, but they were at least hour in . . . far enough that he should be completely immersed in the plot . . . and still his mind kept drifting.

He was thinking about the ultrasound.

It was the first time that he'd seen Baby since he and Emily had become romantically involved. The first time he'd seen that little cluster of cells and thought, _'mine. That child is mine_.'

But it wasn't.

And that's why he couldn't stay focused. Though week by week he was feeling more and more secure in his relationship with Emily, intellectually he knew that their romance was still relatively new.

The shiny parts hadn't yet worn away.

And there was a small, unwelcome, whisper in his brain that continued to worry that when the shine was gone, that problems might arise. That threads might be pulled.

That their unraveling would begin.

Again, intellectually, he knew that he needed to let that fear go. Because there were parts of your life that were always going to be beyond your control. A certain amount of fear about your relationships was normal. Or at least it had always been normal for him.

Even more so now since the divorce.

And he supposed that this dark little whisper probably would stay with him at least until Baby was born. But then after that, more decisions would be made. If their commitment to one another . . . and to their future . . . had solidified as he expected that it would, then he would ask Emily if he could adopt Baby as his own. For real.

Make Jack a big brother.

But those decisions were still some months away, he reminded himself. Those were things to be worked out later. Though in the meantime, as they lay there curled together, over the course of the last hour, he'd been sliding Emily's tank top incrementally further up her stomach.

It was now completely bare. His palm was resting over the expanding bump.

_Mine._

The word came to him again. This baby is mine. And that's when he decided that maybe they could start working on some of those future plans sooner, rather than later.

It might make that whisper go away.

"Have you ever thought about buying a house?" He murmured.

Emily's brow wrinkled as she reached over to press pause on the remote that was sitting on the coffee table. Then she turned to look at Hotch over her shoulder.

"A house?"

This was an unexpected conversation.

"Yeah," Hotch nodded slowly, "a house. You know some grass, a little yard, a fence," he bit his lip, "a couple of bedrooms . . . maybe three. Or four."

It was a bit of ham handed way to bring up the idea of an eventual suburban homestead, but he just wanted to know if she'd ever considered the idea herself. And if not, then he was simply planting the seed.

It could continue to gestate along with Baby itself.

Emily stared at Hotch for a moment before she started to get a crick in her neck. So she turned her head back around, her eyes settling on his wallet sitting on the coffee table in front of them.

She reached over . . . stretching a bit . . . so she could pick it up.

And feeling Hotch continuing to rub a gentle circle on her stomach, she flipped open the small leather case. And there . . . in the back . . . tucked down behind his credit cards and receipts from the week, was what she was looking for. The little plastic slip.

His pictures.

The first thing she saw of course was a picture of Jack. It was from their trip to the zoo last weekend. And she knew that because he had a stuffed giraffe in his hand. She'd bought it for him . . . it was their first get together. Their introduction.

It had gone very well.

And Emily's eyes crinkled as she saw the little dimples that looked so much like Aaron's. But her baby wouldn't have dimples.

Not this one anyway.

But maybe . . . no . . . she furrowed her brow slightly . . . no, she was getting MUCH too far ahead of herself.

_One baby at a time, Emily. God._

And though she knew, with not a shred of doubt, that Hotch loved her . . . love was such a complicated emotion. And it had so little tangible proof to back it up.

At least in a relationship as new as theirs was.

Which meant that there was little that she could point to . . . to an outsider for instance . . . and say, "there, see, see how much he loves me." But this, what she was holding in her hand, she thought that it might give her some clue. Some proof for the outsider . . . who was in this instance . . . the battered young woman that she once was.

The battered young woman that . . . some part of her . . . would always be.

You could never completely escape your past.

And before she could even consider answering the house question . . . or even really seriously consider the 'baby with dimples' future . . . she wanted to see something for herself. And she needed to see it objectively. To see that proof.

To see where she stood.

So she moved along through the photos, seeing the age progression of Jack going backwards from three, to only a few months old. Her teeth sunk into her lip.

That was all there was.

The stab of disappointment was unexpected in its severity. But of course the results of her expedition were unexpected as well.

She wasn't there.

"Look on the other side."

Hotch's words were an amused murmur in her ear. So Emily turned over the little plastic photo holder . . . and her eyes started to water. Here it was. Slid into each of the sleeves, was another picture.

Her face.

Each slot that had a picture of Jack . . . had a picture of her. Laughing, smiling, some taken around the apartment . . . a couple from the day they spent walking around Georgetown. One was even taken when she was sleeping on the couch.

It wasn't a bad shot.

"I'll need another sleeve when the baby's born," he whispered.

Emily rolled over in his arms then, a tear sliding down her cheek.

"We can double up," she said with a watery smile, "Baby and me." But Hotch just shook his head as he brushed her hair back behind her ear.

"Perhaps a couple of them, but you're still getting your own sleeve sweetheart."

She leaned up and kissed him before murmuring against his lips, "I'll think about the house." Then she pulled back with a little smile.

"Let's put a pin in it until next month. We'll talk about it then, k?"

His eyes crinkled.

"Okay."

Though he really wasn't looking to rush the decision, putting it on the table had made him feel better. Because the fact of the matter was . . . as long as they weren't on the road . . . he was sleeping at her place about five days a week now. He was really only at his apartment on the weekends.

When he had Jack.

But now Emily had met Jack . . . and Jack had met Emily. And they'd hit it off just as he'd hoped they would. His son had even let her help him tie an errant shoelace.

That was a big deal.

Because usually . . . since he'd learned how over a spring weekend when Hotch had practiced with him over and over . . . he'd insisted on doing them himself. But he'd just given Emily a shy smile when she'd stooped down to fix it for him. Then he'd let her take his hand again as they walked over to look at the baby elephants. She was pointing to the animals, and telling him their names off the little plaque. Answering all of his little boy questions with smiles and patience.

She was a natural born mother.

And Hotch had watched their interactions with a swell of happy relief in his heart . . . his two loves were bonding.

So for that reason, he was quite sure that by the time Emily reached her third trimester, he'd be staying at her apartment the full seven days a week. And at that point, he keeping a second lease was going to be a ridiculous waste of money.

It had already somewhat reached that point.

And also . . . and this was his bigger, more responsible 'fatherly' thought . . . once he was at seven days, that would obviously mean that Jack would be there regularly too. And Emily only had one spare room.

And that room was not going to be big enough for both of their children.

Baby would need a full nursery, and Jack would soon need a big boy bed. And with any plans that they had to officially . . . or even unofficially . . . blend their little families together, it would obviously be easier to do that in a larger home. Separate bedrooms, separate bathrooms . . . a nice big backyard. Then nobody would be crowded or stressed.

It would make the transition much smoother.

Hotch was pulled from his musings about life in suburbia, by Emily's soft sigh.

She'd just picked up the picture of the ultrasound again.

It too had been sitting on the coffee table. And as he stared at it over her shoulder, an idea suddenly came to him. His eyes crinkled.

_So stupid, he should have thought of it before._

But nonetheless . . . he patted Emily's hip . . . at least he'd thought of it tonight.

"Sorry sweetheart," he bumped her legs with his, "but I have to get up for a minute."

When she shifted forward, sitting up as she dropped her feet to the area rug, he slid around her and stood up.

"Need to borrow this for one second," he said with a little wink, while slipping the ultrasound from her fingers.

And as she watched him in confusion, he walked over to her home office area. It was a small hutch where she kept her printer, paper, pens and just general stuff like that. After he'd opened the little painted wooden door, he lifted the lid on the printer and placed the black and white photo down on its face.

He pressed a few buttons . . . and then a few more. And then he grabbed a piece of the thick glossy paper from the special stack on the shelf below.

After he'd slipped it into the printer, he pressed start. A few seconds later . . . out it slid on the other side.

He picked up the scissors from their little nook and started snipping away.

When he turned back around he had four pictures in his hand. He walked back over to the couch . . . and with Emily still looking at him with a curious eyebrow . . . he put three of the photos down on the table.

The fourth he kept with him.

And after he'd . . . somewhat reluctantly . . . slipped out one of the pictures of Emily from his wallet (it was hard to choose, he'd liked them all) he slid the tiny wallet sized ultrasound in instead.

Shared sleeve for now.

He'd pick up a second one the next time he was in the drug store.

Just as his lip quirked up, his head swiveled to look over at Emily.

"And there we go," he tapped his finger on the little grey peanut, "Baby's first official photo in the wallet. What do you think?"

The tears in Emily's eyes started to pool. Then she turned and looked over at Hotch . . . and the proof of love for Baby as well. It was more than she could have hoped for. She smiled, even as a tear slid down her cheek.

"I think it's just perfect."

* * *

_A/N 2: I actually started this chapter a year ago. Her waiting for him in the doctor's office, but I never could finish it. I was immersed in girl'verse stories then and Mirror is a totally different universe. If you write, you might know what I mean by that. So I could never get the proper feel for THIS version of them to come back to me so I could finish the story. I just couldn't get through the mirror, so to speak :)_

_But I was bored one day and just started cleaning up the earlier chapters here, smoothing out some rough bits from my earlier writing 'skills' ;) and then suddenly I was back in their heads again. I still want to smooth out a few more sections from the original chapters, but I think they're better than they were. _

_I actually do kind of have the next few sequential events here in my head, so I'm going to TRY to fold this into rotation with Emerald Cities and The Arrangement. Realistically I know I can't actively juggle more than 3 big stories at once. _

_And I did purposely skip a chapter on the Jack and Emily meet in this world because I've done their meeting (more than once)and I didn't think it had to be 'live' here to have the same impact. They're bonding, it's good. We'll get back to Morgan's status and whether the team knows about Emily's pregnancy yet, next time around. I didn't cover it here because, you know, you don't think about EVERY aspect of your life, at every moment in time :) Today was about other things._

_I know expectations can sometimes be high if something's been sitting for a while. So hopefully I didn't disappoint anybody with the return chapter :) And if you're wondering, The Arrangement will be coming back shortly._

_Thanks as always for the feedback everybody!_


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